It has been so long since we’ve had precipitation here that when my husband felt a few stray rain drops the other day, he exclaimed, “Look! It’s…pieces of…rain!” He could not immediately recall the word “raindrop.”
I discovered a recipe this week that is as yummy as it is easy: Crock Pot Chicken with Black Beans and Cream Cheese. The recipe is at that link, but here’s the short version: throw some frozen chicken, black beans, corn and salsa in a crock pot. Cook it for five hours, then throw in some cream cheese at the very end. Enjoy!
My wine recommendation of the week:
Yaya was here all week to look for houses. That’s right, citizens of central Texas, Yaya is about to be your neighbor. She has already been on the phone with city officials to try to get the contact information of the mayor to straighten him out (seriously), so I expect the entire city to get whipped into shape in short order after she gets here. Not only am I excited about her arrival because we love her company and she’s a ton of help, but I am convinced that it’s only a matter of time until some smart reality TV producer gets some cameras up in here and makes us all rich.
I occasionally amuse myself by wondering what would be the worst job in the world for me. It’s a tough choice since I am bad at so many things, but I think I finally have the answer: being a chef. I’ve been watching Top Chef with my mom lately, and every time it makes me feel like my head is going to explode. When I see some chef chop onions he thinks about making sure the oven is pre-heated for the filet mignon while watching closely for just the right amount of bubbles on the half-and-half simmering on the stove for a perfect creme anglaise, I feel like I need to retire somewhere quiet and fan myself for a moment. I think I would respond to that kind of intense multitasking by locking myself in a closet and screaming. I am in awe of anyone who can do it.
It was interesting to think about, though. What job would be the worst job in the world for you?
I was going to write something else for #6, but something has come up that I need to address. I am writing this on Thursday evening. My husband came home a while ago to see the kids having their afternoon snack, some yogurt which I proudly announced I’d found on sale:
What? What? Who’s ever heard of laxative yogurt? Was he kidding? He said that there are evidently commercials for this product on television “all the time, ” but those of us who live in caves and only come out of them for the occasional Top Chef episode don’t understand those kind of hip cultural references. He then picked up the empty cup and pointed to the diagram of a large downward-pointing arrow over a stomach:
“Umm, ” I replied. “That when you eat the yogurt it goes down to your stomach? Like it’s, you know, yummy in your tummy or something?”
He looked skeptical, though I quickly squelched any doubt by encouraging him to follow it to its logical conclusion that I just want more excrement-related fiascos in my life. I pointed out that it’s not like I was there in the yogurt section like a lady strolling through her garden, taking as much time as needed to ponder each item; it was rather more like being the captain of a ship of mutinous pirates, the kids swinging from the cart while alternately hitting each other, singing and screaming. This was not exactly an environment conducive to decoding complicated yogurt labels.
My son just walked up to tell me he has a tummy ache. This is not good.
To get your weekend off to the right start, I offer you this: SCORPIONCAM!!!
UPDATE: Oh, no! Scorpioncam has been deleted! Will ARMADILLOCAM!!! do?
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