I have learned from CBC News that there is a tremendous shortage of chicken wings, and that this is expected to put a crimp in Superbowlcelebrations all over Buffalo. According to this report, nearly all the wings being served in Buffalo Sports Bars come from Ontario chickens.
I don’t know if Canada is growing a wingless chicken now, perhaps as a snub to those annoying Americans…..CBC left some important questions unanswered.
Anyhow, we are soldiering on here. We never eat Buffalo wings anyhow, it’s nachos or nothing at our house on Superbowl Sunday.
But when those nachos come out of the oven, I will not be indulging tonight. This is the last night I will be spending with my gall bladder, which does not much appreciate nachos.
I am happy to say that after three years of wishing this part of my body would go away, I can expect some satisfaction tomorrow morning around 8AM.
I have enjoyed almost 2 months without any gall bladder related trouble, until last Monday. I think it heard it was about to be evicted and so it staged a three day attack.
Like a prolonged gall bladder tantrum.
So, I am more convinced than ever of my need to divorce myself of this instrument of torture, and I am so very thankful to live at a time in history when it’s such a simple procedure to just take the thing out.
Meanwhile, we’re rooting for Pittsburg here…..we shall see who wins.
This is the perfect book to follow House of Mirth.
Howard’s End is has many similar themes to H of M: an inside view of the lives of the wealthy and prestigious, and just how neccessary money can be in this world, what becomes of the ladies who fail to marry, hypocrisy and genuinness…..
But Forster is much more optimistic about the possibilities for his characters. And his characters are much more fun and spontaneous and delightfully human.
Margaret is especially endearing, and maybe I would like to be like her when I grow up.
There are some funny recurring oddments in this book, like whenever Italy is mentioned, someone breaks a framed photograph and ends up with bloody fingers on the same page. What’s that about? And I begin to think that Helen is great fun, but that her observations of other people’s lives seem to be nearly 100% incorrect.
My weekend is packed to the top, pressed down and overflowing. I will try to read in the various waiting rooms and parking lots in which I am sure to find myself.
I have just checked out the Amazing Mandi’s new website for the first time.
(I am wondering if she hates me calling her that…..)
Anyway, it’s a very cool and interesting website, and here it is. Actually, that link will take you to her little page about gray hair.
She deals with many subjects dear to my heart like women shooting guns, camping with friends and she has a great list of 100 books we’d do well to read.
But back to the gray hair…..
Some of you who know me will recall that last year my goal was to let my hair go naturally gray…..to stop coloring it.
And then my husband looked at the floor and shuffled his feet and said maybe I could wait a few more years, and then five or six hairdressers told me they would not help me go gray gracefully because I’m “too young” , and then everyone else in my life reminded me that people would start asking me if I am the grandmother of my youngest children…..
So I just cut my hair short, and it’s still brown.
I think our entire culture is warped in regards to old age…..and I am too wimpy to just go gray despite them all. For pete’s sake, I will be 47 this year!
This is an historically significant date at our house.
Thirteen years ago tonight, until about 10PM, I played cards with my mother and Jon.
We finished off the Halloween candy, and I was in a notably foul mood.
I think they got tired of me, and we all went to bed, only to be jolted awake at midnight when I demanded to be driven to the hospital. We took the red ’66 Mustang through blowing snow to Wellesley, Mass, where Audrey was born a little after 2am.
I was the first person ever to touch her, and it was all so wonderful to me. And I was forgiven for my crabbiness over the card game.
Jon and I sneaked out of the hospital with her at 6am. In the elevator on the way down, a lady asked me how old she was and I announced “3 and a half hours!” and everyone sort of jumped back in surprise. We stopped at Starbucks for a couple of lattes, and made it home in time for Mom’s pancake breakfast where Audrey (in her carseat) was the centerpiece. 18 month old David was completely dazzled by her.
And then, two years ago tonight, I got up from a late dinner with the family at 8:15, feeling a bit “off”.
I asked to be excused from kitchen cleanup, and trundled myself off for a warm tub. 45 minutes later, Maggie was born.
Again, I got to touch her first.
Jon was the attending medical expert that night, the midwife being busy pushing her car out of a snowbank in the Duffus’s yard across the street.
Jon was my favorite delivery assistant ever, as he mostly just left me alone. As soon as he noticed she was born, he said “well, lets flip her over and see if we got that girl you were hoping for…”
Again, we thought it was pretty wonderful and another perfect day! Another perfect girl.
So this is our double anniversary of tiny but awesome gifts.
They continue to be blessings to us, and I’m so thankful for the lovely ladies they are becoming.
Happy Birthday Girls!!!
Audrey, when she was six and enroute to a ballet class, stopped to ham around with a dead rattlesnake. This is one of my favorite pictures of her, but it’s not exactly HER favorite.
This is the infamous snake that Michael stepped over in the backyard in Cherry Valley…..a day to remember
This is Audrey last weekend at the Whitevale Christmas Crafts Sale. She set up a table to sell her jewelery, and did VERY WELL.
Her parents were so proud, especially since she was just half as old as the next youngest exhibitor. She sold almost all of her inventory and got several orders for custom jewelery as well.
The connection to this blog is that she brought The Scarlett Letteralong to read when business lagged. Or I was just eager to show her off.