Cluck, Cluck, Cluck

11 November 2008


We are all sorts of a twitter around here. No good reason. Boyfriend is hanging Christmas lights on a tree in the front yard. I think this has something to do with it. . . also, it is snowing and Boyfriend got the day off on account of it being Veteran's Day and he works for the government at all. I'm halfway surprised he doesn't get the whole week off since we all know how much Sarah LURVES herself some military.

Right now I am thinking about how absurd it would be for me to call this a 'job'. No matter how much I would like to transform this little blog (god, I have always REALLY hated that word) into a paying gig, I currently find myself on a borrowed computer, sitting on a stool at my parents' kitchen table while my child and my father watch BALTO and I get ready to figure out once again what the hell to make everyone for dinner. (I'm feeling like the leftover lasagna and a Cesar salad...did I mention the SNOW?) At any rate, to say that I'm 'working' right at this moment seems a fairly ridiculous thing to claim.

Here is what I did today and got paid equally poorly for:

2:30am Wake up.

4:00am Wake up, finish argument with Boyfriend. More or less resolve argument. More or less.

5:00am Still awake. Make up with Boyfriend.

6:30am Daughter awake...everyone awake.

7:30am Get Daughter dressed for school, get Father ready to leave for work, get as much damn coffee down my throat as is humanly possibly while every fiber of my being begs to go back to bed.

8:00am Explain one last time to Boyfriend how to get to Father's office (via the espresso bar). Boyfriend does not understand exactly. Also does not loose my car so everyone arrives at coffee and office in tact.

8:15am Explain to Boyfriend how to get from Father's office to Daughter's Pre-School. Boyfriend does not understand exactly and raises his voice. I drive off. He does not get lost.

8:30am Drop Daughter at school. Am again amazed that The Glorious Pre-School Teacher is so together and calm and awake at 8:30am.

8:50am Arrive at Service Center. Deposit Father's truck for service (leaking wiper fluid, no functional horn, needs oil change).

9:something-10something am Eat breakfast downtown with Boyfriend. Realize that Father's credit card is missing. Fret and argue a bit about this. Run into my favorite congressional candidate of all time. Am so sad that he he is loosing and that it will take another month before anyone knows anything that I donate another fifty bucks to his campaign when I arrive home later in the day.

10:45am Talk to Father who has missing credit card (which is his in the first place). Drive back to Father's Office. Get card. Boyfriend is introduced all over office as "Our Daughter's Friend". Awesome.

11:00am get car washed. Go to Sears to find the little emergency key for the treadmill which has magically disappeared. Awesome, redux.

11:something Go to Barnes and Nobel with Boyfriend to track down some Joesph Campbell books that his son has requested for his birthday. Find BALTO on dvd for Daughter who has been begging for movie. Should probably be a better parent and save it for Christmas.

12:20pm Pick up Daughter from Pre-School. Immediately tell her that we purchased BALTO.*

12:45-1:30pm Shop at Costco with Daughter and Boyfriend. Try very hard to not kill Boyfriend for his entirely adorable if they were all alone in the store cart derby antics.

2:15pm Unloading groceries. Snow falling heavily.

2:45pm Pack everyone back into car to pick up Father from Doctor Appointment.

3:30-Present Watch/very slightly assist or attempt to assist Boyfriend as he hangs aforementioned Christmas lights. Am snapped at for being critical. Awesome to the fifth goodandgoddamned degree.

Snow continues to fall.

Tempers continue to flair.

Fuck yeah.

Leftovers it is!

On top of all of this I have to watch BALTO. So Awesome I can no longer contain myself and am going to pour a glass of wine. Its a holiday!
Because, I am sure you wanted this day to continue just as much as I did.

In which I caught the house on fire!

Just Ugh. Seriously. Ugh.

I did reheat the lasagna (which I spent three hours preparing last night. It is one of those primo lasagnas. Okay? We aren't talking Stouffer's, OKAY?)

Boyfriend hung all the Christmas lights on the big tree outside, in the snow. And they look lovely and he got cold. And the damn tree has GROWN and we need more lights.

That is all I have to say about that at the moment.

In addition to the lasagna, I made a salad. It was really good. Green leaf lettuce, leeks, yellow bell pepper, three roma tomatoes, goat cheese, and Newman's Own Light Italian Dressing.

Well, there was this leftover sourdough bread from original lasagna dinner last night. And I can't eat it, but I didn't want it to go to waste, so I did what I have done literally 200 damn times and made croutons. cubed it, tossed it with EVOO, a couple of spices, some parm, some salt and pepper. When I pulled the reheated lasagna out of the oven, I tossed the croutons in. I set it to Broil and went to toss the salad. Now, in the 200 damn times I have done this previously, in the time it takes the oven to heat from 425 to 500 the salad gets tossed, the lasagna gets cooled, and the croutons get toasted perfectly.

Today, when the buzzer went off and I turned around, well, the oven was ON FIRE. FIRE! FLAMES! And then I opened the door and it was like fucking BACKDRAFT or something. and then we all did that like three times or something before I hit the whole thing with the fire extinguisher. Which, I'm pretty sure, more or less ruined the oven. Sweet Christ! Also, the entire house filled with smoke and not a single smoke alarm in the house went off. Not one. Like a cloud of smoke in the house and NO ALARM. That is comforting.

So, I blasted the flames while Daughter was dancing around singing I Love Fire! I Love Fire! Boyfriend was going on about how it would die out. Father was just progressively more agitated.

Which leads directly to ...

Ugh. Just. Ugh. Is this damn day over yet?

You don't even want to know about Dinner. Or Post Dinner. I promise you. You don't want to know.

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