Beloved was scooping some of the cooked chicken out of the container from the fridge. He asked in a kind but genuinely puzzled tone, “What’s this green stuff on top of the chicken?”
“The leeks. I didn’t want them to go to waste.”
“I’ve never had leeks in fajitas.”
“Think of it as the French influence. You know, six flags over fajitas.” Some of you may not know that six flags have flown over the Lone Star State. One of them was the French tricolor, but for some reason we are known for barbecue and not beignets. ♫Oh, beignets can you seeeee?♪ Nope!
Pretty decent day at work. I ran by the grocery store on my way home, to pick up supplies for handmade cards for the five people at work who are regularly, or intermittently, my bosses. The cards are done, and I made them using things most people find delicious, but which I would rather not eat, so I’m not feeling the least bit tempted to taste-test.
At this writing, I am nearly done binding off the first band on the sweater front. Beloved has Dancing with the Stars on, and I’m heading out there in just a minute, to finish the band and stitch it down and pick up stitches for the second band. Or maybe just to go flirt with the man who keeps me in fajitas. Although I’m not sure that canoodling was what the songwriter had in mind when s/he wrote: This is the night we’ve waited for, oh what a treat we have in store, we love each other more and more, with every fam’ly night.
Tomato, tomahto. I’m outta here!
- Five years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!