Dear Friends,

We lied to you last night.

We didn’t make the hummus. Or the salsa.

The queso, we made.

Thanks again for coming over to say goodbye. We’re gong to miss you and this city we’ve called home for the last ten years.

Much love,
Lenny and Shalva

P.S. We normally make our own hummus. And salsa.

But we’re moving. And have appointments.

And, ugh… Why did I do that?

I never lie. Never!

I’ve been telling Shalva for three years that lying is never the right move. Honesty and forthrightness are easier, quicker, less stress, and just the right thing to do.

Ugh!

Shalva will be proud to tell you that lies were her secret weapon. “Lying is easier and more fun!”

And so on one of our last days in Chicago, the world turned upside down.

We were on the way back from the grocery store when I uttered the words I’ll always regret.

“Everyone’s going to ask if we made all this in our Vitamix. Why disappoint them?”

Her reply: “Why lie? What’s the point?”

(Side note on my internal thought process during and after: What the heck is happening here? All these years of begging Shalva to be 100% honest 100% of the time and she’s actually doing it? On the weekend we’re moving away from Chicago? Or did she just know Sabra hummus does not taste like homemade hummus. I guess we’ll never know.)

I said, “Look, people know us as Mr. and Mrs. Vitamix. We can’t disappoint.”

She said, “Even the hummus?”

I said, “Yeah, we’ll just garnish it. Make it look homemade.”

She said, “I don’t think we should.”

I said, “Look, my mom does it with her business. If she gets a compliment about a blouse and someone asks if its from her store, what does she say? ‘Yes, of course!'”

Same thing right? Why disappoint?

Well, guess what happened?

The Sabra effing hummus disappointed.

Three bowls with little more than a dent taken out of each, probably from the moms feeding their kids. Of course they knew it was freaking Sabra.

I’m never lying again.

Maybe about the tooth fairy. But that’s it.

If 80% of our life is in cardboard boxes, about to do a 400-mile move, have a newsletter to publish, YouTube video to edit, and a 2-hour doctors appointment tomorrow, we’re not making you jalapeño cilantro hummus. You’re getting Sabra.

P.P.S. Yes. Shalva recognizes the irony of her being the center of this story and also the epitome of a sabra.