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.
“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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