Okay, it’s another week almost over and I am lagging behind as usual. I am skimming and am just now on to page three, but I have hope that I will be able to catch up tonight, and perhaps then I will be able to share some of my tales. It’s being a wild season here already, friends.
Michigan, my dad is from there, my stepdad actually, and from there he went to San Bernadino, and eventually to the Puget Sound area, where he met my mom and became dad. He says he will never voluntarily be that cold again, and in fact he won’t venture up to Kodiak in the more temperate season as Alaska=cold=Michigan. :rolleyes: I rolled through a corner of Michigan in January 1981 on my way home from Ohio. Very long story. What I remember of Michigan is a perfect winter scene in a very nice neighborhood with pretty, big houses all lit against a darkening sky. Nice OP, herbs, I wonder if your parents knew a man I knew who taught at Interlocken during that time period. Hmm? Odder things have happened in here.
In local news, we take possession of what I have decided to call the east wing on the 28th. We need to get some tar on a seam on the roof, I also really want to get a wood stove in there, as it has a forced air furnace, and I hate that. We need to get some flooring laid in the hall and bedrooms, some Sheetrock and the rest of that sort of thing in the same areas, and it’ll be good to go.
I made Death Chicken earlier this week, and I was smart and doubled the recipe and made two pans. The first pan was fabulous and near finished at the first sitting, with enough for skiffman to have two helpings for lunch the next day. The other pan was reheated tonight, and it was inhaled. Truly a good dish rigs, I followed the recipe (two pinches of nutmeg) and it has been pronounced ::grunting through mouthfuls:: “mmm…good…” by Bering Sea king crabbers skiffman and Brother Brad.
A wee bit on the canine drama. #1 daughter wanted a puppy for her 18th birthday, and she wanted the antithesis of a pomeranian. After several suggestions were rejected by myself, I told her that in the case that I might have to dog sit her pet, it had to be a toy breed. So, she got a black and rust min pin, Zoey. I love the little beast, but she is a terrier aka terror. Her list of crimes over the years aside, she crossed the line last week when she bit, and broke the skin, of a friend. At the moment she is crated when most company comes over, and I am having a muzzle shipped. It breaks my heart to muzzle her, as she is so bonded to my daughter and her family and is missing them, but I can’t have a biter loose. She also likes to rile the pomeranians up, and I am going to be so very glad when she gets to move back in with her family.
I don’t know how I came to be this old without having encountered Christy Moore, but he is my new must listen to. Especially when he is playing with Declan Sinnott. And Planxty. And Moving Hearts. He and Declan are performing a series of concerts this May/June, d’ya think I can convince skiffman to let me go? Did I mention that they’re playing in Dublin? Hmm, probably not.
Well, by now this probably counts as a drunken post, Brother Brad broke out the peach mead, and it has mellowed me out right nicely. Hi to everyone, and to all the unfamiliar-to-me people who I have noticed. Happy Firday to you all!