Last Wednesday I went up to Bucks County to have dinner with Mr. Ass and his family before they departed for a long weekend in Florida, during which I would be watching their dogs, Yma and Pipo. D. made two chickens, which I believe she brined in some sort of magical brine solution that led to them being ridiculously moist and flavorful but not toooo salty. That, or she's just good at brining things. I have never tried it thus am amazed by anyone who can do in on a Wednesday. Wednesdays don't seem like good brining days somehow. Though I imagine that, on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, the number of fowl in brine solution jumps quite significantly.
Oh man what lovely chicken. People continue to hate on my chicken tattoo idea, I continue to think about it occasionally, like the idea, but know I will probably never actually do it.
D. made a lovely cake, and as my birthday had happened earlier that week, or late the last, There was a candle in the leap of age's honor. Mr. Ass tried to light the candle back y the flame and the smoke (this is some sort of simple science thing I don't understand and am happy to leave as a non-religion based myrical). He did it one time, but I missed actually seeing it.
Then Mr. Ass and I went out to a local watering hole, the name of which I would supply if I remembered. I guess I could be proactive about this and googlemap it or ask Mr. Ass. Alas. Heh.
Mr. Ass ordered a rusty nail (question: does one capitalize established drink names/are drink names proper nouns?), which suddenly seemed like a very interesting choice of beverage. Mainly because I couldn't think of the last time I had one but knew exactly my glass was going to smell and taste like. Thank you to the whole Mr. Ass clan.
Oh man what lovely chicken. People continue to hate on my chicken tattoo idea, I continue to think about it occasionally, like the idea, but know I will probably never actually do it.
D. made a lovely cake, and as my birthday had happened earlier that week, or late the last, There was a candle in the leap of age's honor. Mr. Ass tried to light the candle back y the flame and the smoke (this is some sort of simple science thing I don't understand and am happy to leave as a non-religion based myrical). He did it one time, but I missed actually seeing it.
Then Mr. Ass and I went out to a local watering hole, the name of which I would supply if I remembered. I guess I could be proactive about this and googlemap it or ask Mr. Ass. Alas. Heh.
Mr. Ass ordered a rusty nail (question: does one capitalize established drink names/are drink names proper nouns?), which suddenly seemed like a very interesting choice of beverage. Mainly because I couldn't think of the last time I had one but knew exactly my glass was going to smell and taste like. Thank you to the whole Mr. Ass clan.
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