The picture is the view from my mailbox this morning. If I didn't know that land floods every time it rains, I'd buy it.
What I'm eating: Right now, I'm having a beer. I don't know who came up with that five o'clock shit, but it doesn't apply in THIS house. For breakfast we had smoked ham I picked up at Smith Farms in Cullman. Little toasts I made from a seven-grain sourdough from WF, with a lovely brie and a fig spread.
What I'm drinking: Oops. Guess I need to read the list. Beer IS a food group around here.
What I'm listening to: I'm TRYING to listen to the Muscle Shoals-based radio station, but someone's been fooling with the receiver again. I AM listening to Clean House. Hoping for inspiration.
What I'm reading: I did pull out Cook's Illustrated's Best Make-Ahead Recipes last night. Thanksgiving is looming.
What's pissing me off: Oh, I need to put this to rest. The Nice Child spent the night with a friend last night and the friend's mom is taking all the girls (about six of them, I think, and they're meeting others) to the mall and putting them out. ARE YOU STUPID? So my kid's not going. Ain't gonna happen. And she's been calling all morning, begging. Crying, too. Mother From Hell, just give me a button.
What's cracking me up: My eternal quest to burn this house down. Did it again this morning: Put that black skillet on the eye, turned it on high with GREASE in it and left the room. LAST time I did this, we had to crawl out because the smoke was so thick. That's when The Dog From Hell earned a permanent spot in this household...after I got the kids out I came back in to try to turn off the stove or get the skillet out of the house and my dog came into (what he thought was a burning) house to get me. The Husband wouldn't have done that.