Merry Christmas!

No really.  And no, I don’t smoke that stuff anymore. 

It’s January 7th,  which is Christmas in some parts.   Don’t get me started on how December 25 actually started out as a pagan celebration.  Something called Saturnalia,  although that particular article has a definite slant to it,  you may notice.

(psst, you may have to actually do some *reading*, OMG!)

 

So ya,  Merry Christmas.  As good a day as any.  If anything,  in the Latin Countries, yesterday was celebrated as Three Kings Day, on which presents were given.  Makes more sense,  as there were gifts given by the three Wise Guys.  Right?  But let’s not go down that road.

Other than that,  it’s just another Wednesday here at the Ponderosa.  I suppose it’s time to dismantle the Christmas tree,  but hauling the storage boxes out of the attic right around now is definitely going to involve suiting up.   It be cold up there.

Which is exactly what it should be.  If it’s comfortably warm in the attic during these frigid times,  then we have a problem.

I don’t even want to talk about how cold it is.

 

Got a call to go and pick up an area rug for Daughter Number Two today.  It was supposed to be a Christmas present.   Hey,  came in time for the orthodox one,  if that counts for anything.  There we go, let’s go with that.  Merry Christmas!

 

We didn’t unfurl it,  since it’s not staying here,  and we’d only have to roll it up again.  I managed to shove it into the car with very little difficulty.

See,  it’s sort of under the tree and everything.

 

Yesterday Travelling Companion announced that she wanted “February Chicken” for dinner tonight.   It’s really breaded chicken,  but we got in the habit of calling in February Chicken,  since the order of preparation is Flour, Egg,  and then Bread crumbs. 

Sometimes Bob needs retrieval cues.  Bob has CRS.  You likely know about that one.

 

Involves browning in oil (corn oil is the preferred lubricant) and then baking in the oven at around 350°F for maybe forty minutes or so. 

I say “around” 350, since our oven is kinda wonky.  And I don’t really keep too close an eye on the time.

Until it’s cooked.  That’s all.

 

This btw, is what it looks like before going into the oven.

There was a suggestion to bake some potato wedges,  but I went with slices instead.  Such a rebel.

I just realised I didn’t take an “after” picture.  We ate the evidence.  Anyway,  some salt and pepper,  maybe some green stuff like Oregano, drizzled with some light olive oil,  shake them up in some sort of sealable container and bake along with the chicken. Not on the same tray mind you.  Forty minutes. 

Maybe.  Until they’re cooked.  Like that.

Probably why we didn’t eat until eight o’clock.   I haven’t a clue how long things should take.

Well,  actually I sorta do,  I just didn’t get started in a timely fashion.

Didn’t play the Saxomophone at all today,  but maybe I’ll go down later and honk away until I break into a sweat.

Damned exciting stuff,  I know.

 

Hope you’re warm,  wherever you are.  It’s warm *here*.  Sitting at the computer I mean. 

 

Keep those sticks on the ice*.

 

Thanks for stopping by.

 

*Except maybe if you were the coach of the Leafs,  then you might be thinking more in terms of spiffing up your resume.

 

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