I have been doing much cooking, little eating, and much yelling at people to take containers of soup, preserved cherries, bread, biscuits, etc. with them when they visit. Pineapple jam freshly canned, this morning before making my father take pea soup for his lunch. A casserole of the last of the other night’s ham with hashed potato, sweated red onion/green pepper/a portobello/celery, a bunch of cheddar, cream of whatever can comes out of the dusty shelf in the pantry for supper. And no cereal on top because I am a despicable Yankee.
Unrelated, but would the gremlin that made off with the camera battery and charger a month ago please return them? I will give you three 5.11 socks in return. Thank you.
Edit: Forgot to link Brigid for the basic church supper potato recipe I started with.
You ever put those stickers on anything?
Streetlight Manifesto – Would You Be Impressed?
Have been ordered to run for at least a half hour, to jump in the river at the end, have to charge the mower battery, secure a new safe, stick a pea soup in ye ‘olde bargain bin crockpot that has refused to die since it was given to us at our wedding, strain and store the cooled chicken stock, mow, and go to work.
And still fit in a howdy-do with Bioshock.
Ratatouille made last night has melded and is coming up to room temperature from the fridge to be drizzled with olive oil and tossed with penne, the beer can chicken carcass is simmering into stock, a griddle is warmed for from-scratch English muffins, and I need to wrench on my bike a bit when it is all done.
By The Rivers covers Grinnin’ in Your Face:
The shop may have thrown in a pair of spare tubes with your bike, but they will probably turn out to be the wrong size when you blow out your rear on the ride to work.