What we've got here is a failure to communicate . . .
I made a sacred vow not to travel this year, kids are going to her family, and I want a few major things done on the house. Or the leaking sieve from hell money pit, as I so kindly call our abode.
Well, it is getting to the end of the year and I have no new kitchen floor to go sit on and ponder why I am not flying the friendly skies with whatever airline decided to let me on board. It is getting ugly here.
Big Daddy went along with my request for a big ham dinner this weekend. He bought the ham at the end of the week from Eastern Market. It was a country ham. It involved scrubbings and soakings and other things I did not care to know about. It took 2 days. The best part of it was the fritatta on Sunday morning with the leftover ham. Yes, we have ham in the freezer if anyone needs a pound or two.
We are at the end of our bulb planting extravaganza, 90 Tulips and 90 Daffodils. I am too damn tired to put in the Asian Lily, but I know I must find them and make Big Daddy put them in.
We put Sammy the Spanky dog on Dinovite. Don't judge, he is a licker from hell. And his breath is from the devil from the "supposed congestive heart failure" and the theophilin is making him pee all time. Other than that he is the healthiest dog ever.
Punkin Head is making pickled everything-we are awaiting the cauliflower results, Big Daddy has cracklins on hand courtesy of the country ham and a Paula Deen recipe and I am trying to save my life by eating oatmeal every morning thanks to the new microwave.
Do you ever get a wild hair up your ass and think I must look up Graceland, the one where Elvis lived? Well, if you do you will find they have home furnishings for sale on the website. That is why I drink.