It was one of those mornings where I awoke feeling as if I’d been kicked, punched, and bruised while I slept. And I had been.

No idea why Seth-5yr came in last night, or what he wanted, or why I put him in bed with me just so he could elbow my shoulderblades all night. We had a conversation in the dark about all of these things, but I forgot what was said. It’d be easier if he weren’t so cute. Have I mentioned his dimples?

Or if he gave me an inch or so of room. I’m small and I like to sleep while suspended off the very edge of a king sized bed – it’s not like I’m taking up too much room. But there’s Seth-5yr, right up against me and then a huge expanse of free space on the other side of him and his pointy elbows.

Ugh. I ache. My back feels like a piece of meat that has been beaten up in the name of tenderizing.

Enough complaining, though. I made chicken spaghetti yesterday for the teacher thing. I printed out a PW recipe and also all of your tips from the comment section. Thanks, y’all! The day before, I cooked the chicken in the crockpot and then added other stuff to flavor the stock. This involved first skimming the fluffy white cloudlike disgusting globs of chicken fat. I sang, in order to distract myself from the task. That sicks me out so completely.

I made another batch  of chicken spaghetti that was far less interesting, with no spices, no veggies, and more cheese for Mike and the kids because that’s how they eat. I made a zucchini casserole thing for me that was okay, but not worth the extra effort and calories if you’re the only one who will eat it and you like plain zucchini sauteed with a little sea salt and olive oil. But whatever.

The verdict on the plain, non-PW chicken spaghetti, not the one for the teachers: Mike and Ethan-10yr were polite, Caden-7yr had four helpings, and Seth-5yr asked for a corn dog as soon as he sat down and saw that I’d been cooking. I said no. He cried. I was unmoved. After fifteen minutes, he ate, got over it and was fine.

(But then last night he came and beat me up while I slept, so maybe he wasn’t as over it as I thought and maybe that was Chicken Spaghetti Payback Time. Also known as, Next Time Gimme A Corn Dog)

There was only one cooking mishap, which is pretty good for me. Our cooktop is on the island in the middle of the kitchen. At one point I was standing on the opposite side from where I normally stand and i reached over to turn a burner on. But I turned on the wrong one, because I was looking at the burner knobs upside down and I managed to melt some things that should not have been melted when the wrong burner came on under some stuff. But given my normal level of destructiveness, this was hardly noteworthy.

I went searching for a photo of the kitchen island to help explain that and found this instead. I might finally be figuring out posting pictures!

Here is why I have my own truck:

Because that was Mike’s old truck, and more specifically, what I used to do to it in my free time. He was very understanding about it. Still is. Now I have a truck that is much more suitable for those purposes. (I don’t get stuck like that anymore.)

Ohmygosh that mud is beautiful.

Be Sociable, Share!

•