Monday, January 23, 2017

Anabelle and Daddy Ad-veeeeen-tures! Yeah! *Jazz Hands* Day 3 -July 21

Basket (Cases) Indeedy-ent

This evening started the first official musically titled
“Anabelle and Daddy Ad-veeeeen-ture! Yeah! *Jazz Hands*”

But first I needed to spend another day of panicked set up in work.
I learned that my twenty plus years of experience in risk analysis didn’t matter much once the day rolled past about three thirty.  At that stage of the afternoon I simply couldn’t FMEA anymore.

Shutting down and covering as much as possible, I got to Grandma’s in time to take Anabelle to early dance.  Grandma had already fed Anabelle previously, because that’s what she does. 

I didn’t have time to eat anything beforehand, and that’s including the extra time to step around my four year old nephew.  Morgan was hovering around the “not needing a nap anymore” phase, and this day pushed him back behind the line.

He dropped onto the living room floor, and entered into a puppet with broken strings level coma.

I hauled him into Grandma’s car to allow him to be delivered (as freight) back home while we went to Danceworks.

She had a good time, and the exercise and extended time since her post lunch snack ratcheted up her hunger to post missing dinner levels.

My not having eaten anything since a minimal and quickly scarfed working lunch ratcheted mine up to “post crazy hungry” levels.

Cashing in a “leave me alone, I’m on vacation” chip, we brought some Denville Pizza home. Regular and buffalo chicken YUM!

Hey, if you’re going to fall off the wagon, at least land somewhere exceptionally pleasant and comfortable.

To deal with the post traumatic advanced missingness following the “Call Mami to say goodnight,” we had yet another Chopped related shows marathon while we ate.

I think we were both burned out past the point of rational thought. 

Each time they’d open the basket I’d yell out random, inedible, bizarre, disgusting (or all three) selections.

When I bellowed:
“MANATEE TONSILS!” both of us fell off the couch and had to pause the show.

My renewed explanations why contestants on Cooks Vs Cons were the bizarre occupations I assigned them also kept the level of levity high.

Interestingly, the only guess I got right any time happened on several episodes.
“They’re a real chef…just a sucky one.”

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