Dear Diary – Spring is officially here, which supposedly means it’s time to tackle dreaded Spring cleaning (and I can’t say “I’m too busy” during quarantine )! So I pulled out boxes from under my bed and exterminated some dust bunnies. I sorted through a box of odds and ends and found some miscellaneous photos. Most were tossed out, but one out-take made me laugh out loud.
I had asked the photographer at my wedding to do a large family group shot including Big Guy, Hubby, my parents, brother and sister-in-law, grandparents, aunts, uncles and first cousins. I don’t know who took this snap but bless them!
Yup! That’s my mom giving my dad the ol’ bunny ears…
There’s one in every crowd!
Dear Diary – Complaining about my covid weight is like someone complaining about a politician when they didn’t vote. Especially when I’m inhaling goodies. So, I’ve been trying to find healthier
experiments options. This week I tried eggplant parmigiana. It was much more labour intensive than I anticipated considering it’s 3 basic ingredients: eggplant, sauce and cheese. I ended up with such a pile of dishes: 2 colanders (for salting and draining the eggplant), 2 saucepans (because the first one was way too small), 3 bowls, a frying pan and a casserole dish (to bread, fry and store the eggplant), 1 dish to bake, and all the assorted utensils to cut, measure and grate. While it turned out beautifully, there was one problem: it turns out I don’t like eggplant.
My hobbies include eating and complaining that I’m fat
Yesterday I made a chicken pie from scratch. I also created another mess, albeit smaller than Monday’s mess.
But unlike the eggplant, this I liked! I mean, what’s not to like about butter and lard… Before you condemn me for not eating healthier, it did have vegetables inside.
Dear Diary – I’ve started sleeping with the new mouth guard. It won’t help me win any beauty contests. It takes me forever to get to sleep because it gives me a headache and it tastes slightly of perfume. Also, I am afraid of choking and drowning on my spit in my sleep. When I said I wanted to die peacefully in my sleep, this isn’t quite what I had in mind.
Dear Diary – This weekend I get to meet the physical
terrorist therapist for physical torture therapy on my shoulder, now that I’ve been shot! Hubby went to her a few months ago. I take comfort in the fact that she’s shorter than me. It means maybe I can take her on. Put ’em up!
Dear Diary – Hubby and I have been pvr-ing and binge watching the Great British Baking Show. We’ve watched some of the same seasons more than once. Partly because we don’t remember who wins.
When did our interests switch from action adventure to cooking?
I suppose both genres could have explosions….and steamy buns.
There are other problems with watching so many British shows:
- It makes me want to bake.
- The voice in my head develops a British accent.
- Hubby and I start using phrases out loud, in a British accent, which really annoys Little Guy.
I guess that last one really isn’t a problem. 😉
Dear child – I plan to give you love, nurturing, and just enough dysfunction to be funny. Love Mom