I slept great last night. Thank you Midnight Drops! That is all! 🤗
🎼 Good morning Arlington 🎶
Rain, rain, go away…
It’s raining again. The hardest downpours were when we were making our deliveries this afternoon. It would slow down, and as soon as I pulled up to a delivery door, bam! When we started the business, I invested in a good rain jacket; I can’t tell you how grateful I am for it, especially today.
I wanted to check in and say hello. Not much to report here except that we are busy, busy, busy. We are running fast on that hamster wheel, getting nowhere fast it seems some days. I am exhausted all the time, which is terrible, especially during the precious summer months.
I’ve had the pleasure of my old friend insomnia make a guest appearance a few weeks ago. Even though I go to bed absolutely exhausted, as soon as my head hits the pillow, my eyes snap open, and my brain is going 1,000 miles an hour. It sucks if you haven’t experienced it; ask anyone who has insomnia. It’s maddening!
I’ve been dealing with insomnia my whole adult life, so when it’s not an issue, life is grand! When it rears its ugly head, my days are spent in a daze. After only getting 3 hours of sleep again for the third time this week, I made a bold decision to call and visit a dispensary.
A dispensary is a place that the public can legally purchase cannabis products. Cannabis is legal here in VT, NY, MA, and many other states all around us. The dispensary that I went to is in Williamstown, MA, about 45 minutes from Arlington. It’s called Silver Therapeutics.
I called in the morning and spoke with a well-informed woman who educated me on the types of products they carried and the ones that would best fit my needs. I do not want to smoke, and most edibles are out because they are not gluten-free. She was very accommodating.
In a world right now that doesn’t have employees to work, good customer service or is even open, for that matter, I was so pleasantly surprised with how professional and knowledgeable the employee I spoke with was.
I researched a couple of products she suggested and decided to go with “Midnight drops,” a tablet that looks like a vitamin. These tablets are specifically formulated to help people fall asleep and stay asleep without feeling groggy the next day.
I’ve tried Tylenol PM, which gives me restless legs syndrome, Ambien, which makes me sleepwalk. It also made me cook food, eat it, and clean up all the dishes with no recollection whatsoever. Some scary ass shit right? My boys didn’t know I was sleepwalking while I was cooking. They figured it out when I suddenly ran outside, threw myself down our back deck stairs, and rolled down the hill. They told me the next morning what I did, and again I had no recollection and took myself off the Ambien immediately. Bad idea; I should have weaned myself off of it, but too late.
I’ve tried Melatonin and Valerian root, which came with horrific nightmares, CBD oil, vaping the right strain juice, and regular old weed. Nothing works. Really nothing works.
At my wit’s end, I drove to the dispensary before belly dance yesterday afternoon. It was so official and formal. I was buzzed into a small entranceway to a small shop in a strip mall. I had to have my driver’s license scanned. The young gentleman was very nice and welcoming. He buzzed me into the shop where I had to have my license examined and scanned a second time.
I knew what product I wanted, but they presented me with a menu of products. I was familiar with the menu since I went to their website. Many people order online and go and pick up their orders. All pick-up orders were packed, labeled, and stapled shut in brown paper bags. There were easily 50 bags ready to be picked up.
The Midnight Drops weren’t cheap, and the sales tax was high, but knowing what I am buying, the right strain, and dosage are important to me. The staff also took into account the medications I am on and my allergies…I never imagined it like that.
Yesterday I was so sleep-deprived it was like someone slipped me a mickey. While driving, I had to really pay attention since I was so tired and out of it. I made it through belly dance class with the help of some dark chocolate and lots of water.
I got home from dance at 8:30, and we ate at 9:20 pm. I took the Midnight Drop at 10, expecting to fall asleep immediately. When you smoke the right strain of cannabis for sleeping, it has a quicker effect but wears off within 2-4 hours. The tablets take longer to take effect but can last 6-8 hours for a restful night of sleep.
I went to bed around 10:30 and laid there for at least an hour, maybe an hour and a half, but the difference was I was so relaxed I felt like I melted into the mattress, and I didn’t have any anxiety. I was able to shut my brain off. When I did fall asleep, I slept for 5 hours straight, which is more than I’ve gotten in a long time; usually, I am up every two hours.
So I will report back next week. I just took my Midnight Drops at 9:20 pm and will drink a cup of camomile tea. With a little luck, I’ll be sleeping like a baby before midnight. Fingers crossed! 🤞
Piri Piri Chicken
Spatchcock chicken is a cooking method that has intimidated me until today. To spatchcock a chicken, or butterfly it, cutting along the backbone, allowing it to be completely opened out and flattened. Doing this reduces the cooking time significantly and allows the whole bird to be cooked in different, speedier ways, such as grilling, baking, or pan-frying.
I have pretty good knife skills for meats and poultry, so I don’t know why I was afraid to spatchcock a chicken; hell, people spatchcock their turkeys on Thanksgiving, so it cooks quicker. Now that I did it, I feel ridiculous it took me so long to try it.
I decided to make Piri Piri Spatchcocked Chicken. Piri Piri is a Portuguese dish, a marinade made with hot chili peppers, paprika, garlic, olive oil, and lemon. The marinade is slathered on the chicken; then, the chicken is grilled or baked.
Of course, I didn’t have any official piri piri, aka peri-peri chili peppers, so I had to improvise like usual. After reading dozens of recipes, I used what I had and put together my own marinade. I thought I made it spicy enough, but it could have been spicier for sure.
Yesterday, I brined my whole chicken then spatchcocked it. I patted it dry and popped it into the refrigerator until today. That was my first mistake. I should have applied the marinade then so that it would have permeated flavor into the chicken better.
Piri Piri Chicken is traditionally seared with grill marks on the skin side of the chicken over a hot grill, then flipped over to indirect heat to finish cooking. I used an internal digital thermometer so I wouldn’t second guess myself on doneness and temperature.
I was happy with my sear marks and the way the chicken was cooked. I rotated it once during the cooking time so both sides would be close to the hot side of the grill. I let the chicken rest and then carved it into 2 breasts, 2 wings, two legs, and 2 leg and thigh pieces.
It was cooked perfectly, juicy and tender. The char marks didn’t taste burned; they tasted grilled; I was skeptical until I actually tasted it. The meat fell off the bone and was delicious. There could have been a lot more flavor, though. Next time, I will make my marinade more potent and let the chicken marinate for at least 24 hours.
Piri Piri Spatchcocked Chicken was a hit and a lot easier than I thought! I’m going to try roasting a whole spatchcocked chicken next with lots of butter and herbs under the skin. Did I mention how much I love roasted and grilled chicken…yes, at least a dozen times.
We’re going to Vegas baby!
Last April, Marty and I were supposed to go on our first real vacation together, just the two of us, since around 1994. That’s almost 27 years ago!
January 2020, we booked an all-inclusive vacation in Mexico with a premium liquor package. There were lots of gluten-free friendly restaurants in our hotel. The hotel’s executive chef would have met with us and discussed our dietary restrictions.
We were both excited that we took the plunge and put down $3,400 bucks for the airline tickets and hotel. We had been saving up this for a long time. I was nervous about spending the money because what if something happened and we couldn’t go. Then COVID Hit.
During the lockdown in March, I was in denial at first, thinking we would still be able to go on April 20. Slowly, I began to panic because we used Priceline…no refunds. Marty tried to call Priceline, but they would only talk to you 48 hours before your scheduled departure. I was pissed, sad, angry, and sick to my stomach that we wouldn’t get our money back.
I saw someone on a Facebook post that said vacation booking agents were giving refunds due to COVID. Holy shit, I almost did a backflip! We still had to wait a couple of weeks to talk to someone, but now there was some hope.
All booking agents did the right thing and reimbursed everyone’s hotel money. United Airlines gave us a credit that had to be used by the end of January 2022. At least we had plenty of time to plan a new vacation; little did we know how long Covid restrictions would still be in place.
With half of 2021 over, we knew we needed to book something or lose our $1,000 airline credit. Going overseas was out because COVID was still bad in many other countries. I had my heart set on Paris for a long weekend, but it wasn’t worth the risk, and the Eiffel Tower is covered in scaffolding for repairs anyway.
We put together a checklist of must-haves for our vacation, Our checklist needed to include the following: guaranteed hot and sunny weather, a hotel with a beautiful pool, close enough to restaurants and bars that we could walk to, and different things to see and do. Las Vegas checked off all those items.
Marty called Priceline, and we held our breath while we waited to see if we could use our airline credit; we could! Happy dance! We looked at prices and dates for both flights and hotel deals. Surprisingly, we found a great deal for $137 a night at the 5-star Venetian Hotel. We decided we would stay 4 nights in Vegas and one night in Albany the night before our early morning flight. Plus, we could keep our car at the hotel for $5 a night; the hotel is right across the street from the Albany Airport.
I wasn’t going to write about our trip because I didn’t want to jinx it. September weather in Vegas is ideal; there are tons of gluten-free friendly restaurants and bars everywhere. The pools and the hotel is gorgeous. We can walk over to the Paris Hotel, see the Eiffel Tower replica, and explore the Paris “streets.” Our hotel is modeled after Venice, complete with gondola rides.
Yes, Vegas can be kitschy and cheesy, but it can also be the perfect escape we need desperately. We want to lounge by the pool during the day and hit the town at night. We don’t gamble, but there are tons of shows and events going on. I think the Van Gogh Immersive Experience will be there when we are…I’ve been wanting to go so badly, hoping to see it in Paris or NYC. Hopefully, I can see it in Vegas.
We’ve planned our trip right before Oktoberfest season, but with a lot of hard work and planning ahead on our deliveries, we should have no problem pulling the trip off. We have never completely closed the business in the four years we have been in business. I have no problem having my phone on “Do not disturb,” but I will have to force us not to take business calls or reply to emails or social media messages; it will stress us out and ruin our trip.
So I am super excited, to say the least; it’s less than two months away! “We’re going to Vegas, baby!” Yay!
Jersey Tomatoes
Every July, I start looking forward to getting my hands on some Jersey tomatoes. New Jersey is the Garden State, which most people don’t think of when they think of New Jersey. Most people have seen congested industrial areas that are not only ugly but very crowded. Many people go through the industrial areas when they take Route 95 or the New Jersey Turnpike while heading down to Florida or fly into Newark airport…they see the gray, smoky, dirty Jersey. Not the beautiful parts.
New Jersey has so many gorgeous beaches down the shore that are clean, wide, with lots of soft sand. Compared to New England, the water is warm and not ice cold. New Jersey also has abundant farmland, beautiful parks, and lots of history. It’s actually the soil and the climate is that make Jersey tomatoes so special. In 1968 Rutgers University introduced a special tomato variety called Ramapo or aka the Rutgers tomato. The classic Jersey tomato is sweet and tangy with big tomato flavor. Jersey tomatoes are not known for being beautiful tomatoes; most are perfectly imperfect.
Imagine this: picking a vine-ripened tomato from the vine and making a Jersey tomato sandwich with a still-warm tomato from the sun. Jersey tomatoes don’t last when they are ripe; you have a small window of eating them before they go bad. Jersey tomatoes also don’t ship well since they have a short life span from vine to customer. This means you get Jersey tomatoes in New Jersey mid to late July; when they are gone, it’s over for another summer. This is what makes them so special. Truly a seasonal delicacy.
A Jersey tomato sandwich is two slices of bread or toast with mayo slathered on both slices. You add thick tomato slices and generously season them with kosher salt and pepper. You can also make a kick-ass BLT with Jersey tomatoes.
A friend from my hometown in NJ brings me Jersey tomatoes every summer when she comes to Vermont to camp just 1/2 mile from our home here in Arlington. Ann always comes through for me. She lives down the Jersey shore, and the tomatoes are readily available until they are gone in just a few short weeks.
One of my favorite ways to eat a Jersey tomato sandwich is on toast smeared with bacon fat that I keep in my refrigerator spread on both slices of toast, no mayo, just a little kosher salt and pepper on the tomato slices, and voila! A delicious sandwich! It’s a genius way of adding bacon flavor without having the ass-ache of cooking bacon.
To me, when I think about summertime Jersey tomatoes immediately pop into my head, either in sandwich form or used in a beautiful Caprese salad. Last night at the Arlington Farmers Market, we picked up some fresh mozzarella cheese from Norm at Maplebrook Farm to go with the tomatoes Ann brought us. I picked some basil leaves from my back deck. I added a drizzle of extra virgin olive oil, kosher salt, and pepper. The purest, simple, delicious dish using just a few in-season ingredients.
If you have ever had a Jersey tomato, I know you are nodding while reading this; if you haven’t, it’s something that you have to try at least once; they really are special and world-famous. I did find “Jersey field grown” tomatoes right at a produce stand in Bennington, VT, a couple of years ago. I was skeptical, but one bite, and I knew they weren’t bullshitting around. Jersey tomatoes in Vermont! Who knew!
We had a Caprese salad for dinner tonight, and I am making BLT sandwiches for lunch tomorrow. We have about two more days to eat the ones Ann brought up yesterday, then that’s it…for another year.
Cozy…
Sunday morning, it was pouring rain and chilly. We still sat outside and had our coffee; we just covered ourselves with the blankets we keep on the front porch. It’s a brilliant idea that we didn’t start doing until last summer. The porch is so comfortable that you can nap or even sleep, for that matter, out there.
I covered the boys, Otto & Klausie, with their red blankets and they stayed nestled up for over an hour. When it got warm out, they shed the blankets and slept the rest of the morning on the porch—the good life indeed for these spoiled dogs of ours.
Thank goodness we have the front porch with all the rainy weather we’ve had this year. Last summer, we had a campfire almost every night in our side yard, but it’s been too wet, too late, or raining every night. We haven’t had one fire yet this year.! Damn, we gotta get on that before we run out of summer nights.
Cheers!
It’s 9:05 pm and I just got home from bellydance class. I just finished putting away some groceries I picked up before class. It’s a drag to have to lug stuff inside when my legs feel like rubber after a day of production then dancing for 3 hours.
We have not eaten dinner before 9:30 pm for the last two weeks and tonight will be no exception. Lately, Marty and Sam have gone on rescue squad calls and don’t get home until close to 10 pm. I’m so busy catching up with things that before I know it they are home and we all eat together. As I recall eating late happens every summer when we are out straight with work.
Dance class was great tonite! Very hot and humid, but great. No matter how tired, stressed, or down any of us are, dance changes all of that and we leave happy. Dancing is the best therapy in the world!
I am sitting here waiting for the boys to get back and I made myself a double dirty vodka martini with a bleu cheese stuffed olive. I am craving salt probably because of how much we sweated tonight. I make my martinis with very little vermouth; I basically just wave the bottle over the ice to barely wet it. That’s the way my dad taught me when I was around 10 years old. He bartended for a caterer on weekends and taught me how to make drinks. That was the norm back then or at least in our house anyway.
I am so glad I made that pot of Bolognese sauce on Monday. I am reheating it and making some linguine. The funniest thing about being professional pasta makers is that we never have enough for ourselves to eat this time of the year!
So cheers my friends! This is all I have in me tonight as far as a blog post, but I wanted to just say, “Hi!” Good-nite…
***We ate at 10:20 pm 😝
Steamed Clams
I love steamed clams. I like small clams such as littlenecks, cherrystone, and Manila clams. Steamer clams are larger and are the ones with that disgusting black thing sticking out on the side of the clam. I’ve eaten them, but they are things I eat quickly and do not look at or think about too much.
Last Thursday, I made the bbq chicken Marty suggested that I just wrote about last night. I saw a bag of cherrystone clams at Shop-Rite and picked up a bag as an appetizer for us. The fishmonger said they were very sweet and delicious. Done deal!
Before I became serious about cooking, I thought clams were just thrown into a pot with some water and steamed. I thought the same thing when making shrimp for shrimp cocktail. Of course, you can do it that way, but then I learned about making a Court Bouillon. This is why food tastes better in restaurants.
From Wikipedia:
Court bouillon loosely translates as ‘briefly boiled liquid’ (French court) or “short broth” because the cooking time is brief in comparison with a rich and complex stock, and generally is not served as part of the finished dish. Because delicate foods do not cook for very long, it is prepared before the foods are added. Typically, cooking times do not exceed 60 minutes.
Although a court bouillon may become the base for a stock or fumet, in traditional terms it is differentiated by the inclusion of acidulating ingredients such as wine, vinegar, or lemon juice. In addition to contributing their own flavor, acids help to draw flavors from the vegetable aromatics during the short preparation time prior to use. Court bouillon also includes salt and lacks animal gelatin.
I made my court bouillon with some white wine, salted water, lots of garlic, lemon, parsley, and a glug of olive oil. When I first started making a court bouillon, I made it a few minutes before throwing my shellfish into the broth. Now I make it ahead and gently steam it for 30 minutes, then take it off the heat. Later I get it up to a boil again and throw in my shellfish.
The cherrystone clams were very clean. I put them in a bowl to scrub them, but no sand was left in the water. I looked through each one making sure it was still alive. Yes, they are alive. The clams should be closed tightly or shut tightly if it’s open a tiny bit. You squeeze the shell, and it closes; it’s alive; if it doesn’t, it’s dead, and you throw it away.
These clams were beautiful! I only found 2 clams whose shells were cracked; I got rid of those. The clams had absolutely no smell, which is an excellent sign of freshness.
When my court bouillon came up to a boil, I dumped the clams into the pot and closed the lid. I waited about 10 minutes, and I checked on them. They were all open and ready to eat.
I melted some salted butter and skimmed the white debris off the top of the butter. I didn’t have time to make clarified butter; at this point, it was 9:00 pm. Thursday was my delivery day from hell, and I got a super late start on dinner; plus, I made bbq chicken beforehand.
I piled the clams in a large bowl and poured some of the court bouillon on top of the clams, and we each had a small ramekin with melted butter to dip the clams in.
Wow! They were so sweet, tender, and delicious! The bag of cherrystone clams was $19.99, a steal for such great quality and an appetizer for the 3 of us. I’m sure it would have cost more at a restaurant for all of us. I’m also sure the liquid wouldn’t be such a flavorful court bouillon.
I can’t wait until the next time we meet our distributor, the Alpine House, in the parking lot at Shop-Rite; I’ll go in with an open mind and hopefully come out with something as delicious to make for dinner.
Barbeque Chicken
We went to the supermarket Shop-Rite last Thursday after making a few deliveries in the Albany, NY area. I like the supermarket chain Shop-Rite; it’s where my family shopped where I grew up in Iselin, NJ. Unfortunately, there are no Shop-Rites in Vermont, so I go there whenever I can.
We wanted to make a summery meal like we would have if we went away somewhere; it would be some shellfish for me. Marty suggested grilled bbq chicken, something I have never made before, believe it or not. Meal planning is the hardest part of cooking, so if someone gives me a suggestion or request, I jump on it.
All the memories that I had of grilled bbq chicken were terrible ones. Whoever was the “grill master” would start with some delicious-smelling chicken. Then they would brush bbq sauce on the grilled chicken parts. Here’s the bad part, they would leave the chicken on the grill until it was completely black and incinerated.
I know the people who were doing the grilling didn’t do the cooking inside their homes but insisted on doing the outdoor cooking. I also know they didn’t want to kill their families and guests from food poisoning from undercooked chicken. But hello, do you have eyes and a nose? Don’t you see it turning black and smelling burned? Is that how you eat it when someone who knows how to grill serves it?
As a kid, I would be so disappointed that bbq chicken was ruined. My dad never made bbq chicken; grilling wasn’t his thing; he liked to cook. So I had to have it at other people’s cookouts. Everyone would pretend to eat the chicken that was burnt beyond recognition. I’m sure people had to stop at McDonald’s or White Castle on their way home since everyone was starving after the cookout.
Last night on a Michael Pollan show called “Cooked,” they showed an old black and white TV clip where a son watched his father grill and asked the dad why he was cooking. “A women’s place is in the kitchen; men do the outdoor barbequing.” 😖 Thank goodness things have changed.
Since we decided on bbq chicken, I read how to make it, which is much easier than smoking chicken. The cook time is quicker, but you have to pay more attention. I followed a recipe loosely that turned out better than I thought. Yay!
I brined the chicken for a few hours then patted it dry. Next, I covered the chicken parts with olive oil, kosher salt, and pepper. Unfortunately, it took me a while to have a fire hot enough to grill on; Marty had to come to my rescue since I don’t have my fire-starting badge yet.
The recipe instructions called for a hot and cool side of the grill. So, basically, you push all the hot coals over to one side. I followed the recipe searing the skin side first on the hot side of the grill, then flipping it over to do the same thing to the other side.
Next, I moved the chicken to the cool side of the grill. I kept checking and flipping the chicken. I also checked the temperature of the chicken; when it was getting close to 165 degrees, I started brushing on the bbq sauce. I repeated this a few times until the temperature of the chicken was above 180-degrees. If I didn’t brine the chicken first, it might have started drying out at that point.
I took the chicken off the grill and let it sit while I concentrated on the rest of our dinner. It came out really good! Better than I had hoped for! Yes! It was some legit bbq chicken. We all agreed it was the best thing I’ve made on the smoker grill so far.
I love roasted chicken and could eat it every day; now I love bbq chicken as much and could definitely eat it every day. I’m so happy that this time I was successful on my first try! Yay!
Mid-July burnout…
It happens every summer; by July, Marty and I feel burnt out. We both feel like we are running on a hamster wheel and not getting anywhere. It also feels like the movie “Groundhogs Day” with Bill Murray. Every day is the same, done in the same order with the same results pretty much.
As I type this, sipping my coffee on this rainy Sunday morning, I’m thinking about how far we are behind already for next week. I’m also thinking about when the hell the rain is going to stop. The rain held off for our farmers market yesterday and for the Arlington Firemen’s Carnival on Friday and Saturday. I am glad for both because it’s the same amount of work if the weather is gorgeous and you know you will have lots of customers as it is fretting about bad weather and IF you will have any customers. You have to be ready in both cases and keep your fingers crossed.
Last week was a whirlwind of ups and downs. The ups were fantastic, and the downs were…well, not great. I know I am burned out when there are so many things I want to do and have to do that I end up biting off more than I can chew and get frazzled and stressed. Not being able to do the things I want to do puts me in a shitty ass mood.
We had a great time when my sister Jennifer came for a visit, but we had to work both days. It’s not that we don’t like to work, we love our business and making spätzle, but there aren’t enough hours in the day to work and have a life. I also know most business owners don’t have a life, but we love summer so much, and it’s so short here in Vermont that we both see it slipping away…quickly.
I don’t have enough time to write, which bums me out because I have so many things going through my head that I want to tell you about but can’t. I’m hardly on social media because I have to use that time to get things done; when I do go on, I see everyone’s vacation photos. I am envious that my friends are on beaches and at pools. They are eating lobster rolls and other amazing summertime foods. They are at live music concerts, traveling, and camping.
It seems everyone is enjoying their summer while I am over here running on the hamster wheel. When I say envious, I mean it; I don’t mean jealous; I am happy that my friends are living their lives again after a year of doing nothing. On the other hand, we are doing the same thing as we did last year; of our own doing. Don’t get me wrong; I am grateful we even still have a business after last year; we just need to come up for air for a minute.
Thursday, we were in Albany, NY, by 9 am, an hour from here, to make some deliveries. It would not be a production day, which set us back even further. We went into a big Shop-Rite while we were there already and planned our menu for later that night. We decided on a summery menu since it was probably the only hot & sunny day of the week.
We had other deliveries to make later in the afternoon, Marty went North, and I went South to get them all done. I was so hot, tired, and flustered that I lost my keys in the van; I knew they were there because I unlocked the doors. I spent the next 20 minutes cursing, praying to St. Anthony to help me find my keys. I know that St. Anthony is so sick of me losing shit all the time, but he always comes through. “St. Anthony, St. Anthony, please come around; my keys are missing and can’t be found.” I am sure he makes me wait to pay for all the cursing I do.
At one point during the missing key situation, I really started getting mad. There was no way on fucking earth I would make that call to Marty and tell him I lost the keys in the van. No way that was going to happen! Just as I almost started to cry, I looked down and saw the key stuck between the front seat and the cargo area. I thanked St. Anthony the whole way to my next delivery.
At my next delivery, I somehow cut my pinky finger, and it bled like a mother. I didn’t know where or how I did it but realized it when I was covered with blood. I quickly went back into the place I made the delivery to see if I was bleeding in there, but thank goodness I wasn’t. I had to wrap my pinky in a dirty, crumpled-up tissue that I found under the seat where the key was hiding earlier. Thank God this was my last delivery stop. I got home so much later than I planned. This is how life on the hamster wheel goes, going nowhere fast.
At this point, I am also going to add that somehow, on the Fourth of July, while sitting down, my left quad leg muscle went into a painful spasm that has left me hobbling around, having to go up and down stairs like Gimpy. I’ve tried everything to get this muscle to heal, but it’s taking its sweet ass time. It’s so frustrating since I am on my feet constantly, and it hurts. I am a train wreck right now, aren’t I? LOL
Back to Thursday…when I got home, I still wanted to make the meal we planned on when we bought all the ingredients in Shop-Rite. Was I nuts? Yes! Did I pull it off? Barely. Did it taste good, and more importantly, was it worth it? You bet your ass it was.
Today we are relaxing. We tried to plan a quick getaway for a night or two but forgot we were finally getting the cracked windshield replaced in the van after months of waiting. Our particular windshield hasn’t been available during the pandemic, which means we haven’t been able to get the van inspected either. We have to be grown-ups and have it done and take the van for inspection. I hate being a grown-up! I wouldn’t have been in such a hurry to grow up if I knew it sucked sometimes.
So enough of my pissing and moaning. I’m not looking for sympathy or anything like that; it’s an authentic blog that can’t be all made-up bullshit and roses. I get cranky and whiny when I feel burned out. I’ll get over it. It’s funny that I chose the mug that says, “GET SHIT DONE” for my coffee this morning; probably a bad choice, but I didn’t even think when I poured my coffee.
All in all, the weekend turned out well. We sat on our front porch Friday night and watched all the people going to and from the carnival. We lost track of how many times the firetruck and tractor rides went by our house. People waved to us while we were relaxing with a cocktail. I was indeed relaxed, especially since I made myself a Bloody Mary to go with my late lunch after production. 😉
We had a successful farmers’ market selling out before the market was over. Last night we went to the Firemen’s carnival; Marty and Sam were on call with the rescue squad, so they brought the ambulance to the carnival in case they had a call, which they did at the end of the night. I had a good time; it was fun catching up with some friends were haven’t seen for a long time.
Later on, I am looking forward to writing about the fantastic food I made on that frazzled Thursday. I am making a pot of Indian Butter Chicken for dinner tonight or tomorrow and some more doggie meatballs for Klaus. This type of cooking isn’t a chore; it’s my zen. Have a great Sunday, guys! Thanks for listening. ❤️