Don’t Hate Me Because I Have Bacon
February 26, 2008
Take your Lipitor and head on over to Work It, Mom! for the recipe. Mini meatloaf wrapped in bacon.
Outside my kitchen door. The shovels wait for the next snow storm. And guess what it was doing today?
This reminds me of a story.
Last week I was talking on the phone to Susan. And after we talked about our continuing plans to form a women’s only compound where we will eat chocolate and drink wine all day, in the event that we should be both be untimely widows. Not that we are hoping for anything. Most days anyway. Suddenly Susan exclaimed that she had forgotten the milk in the trunk from earlier in the day.
And she asked, “Do you think it will still be good?”
“Do I think it will still be good?”
“Yes. Do you think it is sour?”
After I laughed and laughed I told her that she should take her chances. Just because she had tormented me so with her hot weather. Here the milk would have been frozen solid.
Much like the water bottles I keep in the back of my van. They are now more likely to be used as a deadly projectiles should we have a car accident that being used for any rehydration should we get stranded in the snow and be forced to survive on frozen water and the petrified food that litters the floor.
Later on that day I was out and took a photo of the temperature in the van.
And just in case you were unsure if that was cold:
Completely random photo. I got an important work related phone call while I was sitting here just like this. Apparently I am not bright enough to hit reply on an email and send it to the other person and not myself. So the person was waiting on me and I was like this.
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