Sunday, April 13, 2008

Back to normal...

Or, at least, as close to normal as we get.

I finally arrived home around midnight on Thursday night/Friday morning after an invigorating 15 hour drive through thunderstorms, high winds and tornado warnings. Good times. I have sent the first email in what I'm sure will be the lengthy process of trying to obtain some satisfaction from American Airlines. I had 4 flights canceled in a 24 hour period. At least I wasn't one of those poor bastards stranded at the airport, and I didn't have a whole family in tow with me. Thank you, each and every one of you, for your kind comments while I was away. Business travelers, I salute you. Honestly, I don't think I'd want to live like this.

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The original plan this last week was for me to fly to Dallas, do that thing that I do, and be home Wednesday afternoon. Then I was going to spend the next few days working around the house. You see, it's not only time for the annual de-whitetrashification, but it's also redecorating season. We found a painter to do our kitchen/study, living room/back hallway/bathroom, and our youngest daughter's bedroom. MizBubs, girl dynamo, got everything moved around and ready for the painter. This meant that our dining room became a totally unusable maze of stuff from half the other rooms in the house.

MizBubs, girl dynamo that she is, is still human, and she got sick this week while I was gone. Picture your average suburban home in the middle of a redecorating project, populated by two teenagers, two dogs and a sick mom with an absentee husband. Oh, and every person in that household collects something. That's us.

So we're trying to get back on track. Which is hard, and my bride had to work this weekend too. When I got done with the dinner dishes tonight I noticed MizBubs working her delicate fingers to the bone, ironing the living room curtains to get them back on the wall. She seemed so determined, so plucky, so saintly as she toiled away. I thought to myself "now that looks like a girl who could use a strong drink."


I went to work. Originally I was going to make something called a "fancy bourbon" but we were out of triple sec. I made a few substitutions and arrived at this here drink:

The Kentucky Bluegrass
  • 2 shots of bourbon
  • 1/2 shot of blue Curacao
  • 2 dashes of bitters
  • 1/2 teaspoon of superfine sugar
Mix the ingredients together in a cocktail shaker over ice, shake well. Strain into a martini glass and serve:



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I discovered something new in Dallas: fried pie. I found it at a barbecue place near SMU called Peggy Sue BBQ. Picture an empanada with flaky buttery pie crust, and delicious pie filling. It was like what a Hostess fruit pie would be like if it didn't suck. The day I was there they only had two flavors, coconut and apricot. I had the apricot, topped with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Their chopped brisket wasn't bad either, I'll tell you what.

Hope everyone had a good weekend. See you tomorrow.


5 comments:

Erik Donald France said...

fried pie -- chicken fried steak -- fried lobster -- yumbo!

FranIAm said...

Holy crap- I am so sorry for your travel mishegosh. Ask Jewgirl for a definition. I am a Catholisha Jew if you ask Katie.

And sorry Miz Bubs got sick. If I got sick I don't think I would end up with that kind of cocktail, Mr He Is is a great guy, but he has limitations in the cocktail area. I said cocktail! (Not a drinker... and still he married me!!)

Now the line that trumps all lines in this post is this one... "It was like what a Hostess fruit pie would be like if it didn't suck."

Have you considered a career writing snappy ad copy?

Shee-ite Bubs, you is good.

(and thanks for that swell comment you left me yesterday, seriously that touched me and I truly appreciated your words.)

Dr. Monkey Von Monkerstein said...

I'm glad you're back to help that girl dynamo out and to protect and to serve. Dam those cheapskates at American Airlines!

kirby said...

Fried pies... so that's what Bobby Hill is always dreaming about.

Writeprocrastinator said...

I want to know what is not deep-fried in the South. If you watch "A Cook's Tour" and "No Reservations," it seems everything in the British Isles is game for the deep fryer, too.