Mom and Dad moved out of state to get away from my druggy welfare mom sister. Who knew that if they all showed up at their door would be provided for because sister knew Mom wouldn’t let the babies go hungry. Sister lives with Mom now and does understand that it is in sister’s best interest to keep her meal ticket alive and paying all the bills.
Yes, I do have a lot of strong opinions about it, sorry. Mom is being cared for because of her bank card. I love her for so much more.
Which brings up my current dilemma. I will be 65 on Wednesday and want to eat lobster. I love seafood, Mom is meh about it and hubs dislikes it.
There is a red lobster in town. A famous bar and grill in Prescott serves mini lobster tails as an entre add on. We can go on my birthday.
However, Mom is leaving on Tuesday and wants to buy my birthday dinner in Phx. I have looked at seafood places and the ones I want don’t really serve anything they will want.
So am I going to be fucking gracious about this and eat shrimp skewers at Applebees or am I going to turn into a spoiled princess over one of the >80,000 meals I will eat this lifetime?
For a second there I thought you were gonna say you peed on the electric fence. I will say it’s something you do exactly one time. It’s kind of a right of passage thing if you grew up in the country.
JtC let Mom take you to Applebee’s for shrimp on a skewer, then on your real bday take yourself out for lobster. Hubs can go with and sulk, or he can stay home with GG
Hubs once had a biker friend who lived in a very sketchy area. Lacking a garage, he would park his bike outside his bedroom window. As added security he ran an extension cord out his window and electrified his bike.
One night he woke up hearing rustling outside his window and an inhuman scream, then the sound of a dog yipping down the road.
Thank you so much for the beer Advent calendar idea. Hubs is really enjoying his IPA beers and is making notes of the ingredients.
We are all about fermentation hobbies because they involve so much slothing. Which reminds me to look at the mead. The bucket is in a dark closet and I try to look at it weekly.
I’ve made mead, it’s a different critter than wine or beer. My attempts were less than successful but my neighbor guy got it figured out. He has a bunch of bee hives and does honey on a semi-pro basis. His mead is to die for… fortunately he shares it so dying hasn’t so far been required.
Mom is the only reason I am even around to plan a seafood dinner. I am now feeling very ungrateful for whining. Applebees shrimp skewers are average at best. Having dinner one last time with Mom will be priceless.
Morty, I am glad your neighbor is happy to share, he is right, good honey makes all the difference. We have a local source, and sometimes play with wild bee honey because it is cheaper than the clover fed bee honey. When wild honey makes bad mead it is really BAD mead, but the good mead happens enough to keep gambling.
Twenty or more years ago, I wished I had a puking cat creamer. Unfortunately, they didn’t exist and I didn’t know anyone, or know how to find anyone, to make one for me. I’d search from time to time over the years to see if anyone else had the same idea. No joy. Until a few weeks ago. I found one on Amazon. It arrived yesterday. (A Sunday delivery, no less!)