Never Again

This weekend, Greg and Sage camped out with the Boy Scouts in the drizzling rain. I stayed home and had writer’s block. Wile E. missed Sage very much, and sat sadly at the window for a great deal of the time. Mommy is boring.

Here is Sage with Salsa. The eyes are Photoshopped in an unsuccessful attempt to correct red eye. Sage and I were totally cracking up at the effect.

The Christmas tree has been up for about a week now. The one we had from last year, which was muy expensive, got peed on by the cat and then mildewed. My brother brought over the little Charlie Brown tree for us, but it was really depressing, so we bought a new tree. I like it, and it will be protected from peeing felines next year.

Last weekend, we all went to see the Texas Fiddling Championships. Greg and I really enjoyed ourselves, and we thought Sage did too. I didn’t find out otherwise until we were at a noontime Christmas flute and piano performance at a local church when Sage said, “Mom, I like this music much better than the music at the BAR.” The very churchly woman behind me gave me a look. So those mortifying moments in public don’t stop when they’re 10 years old. However, I’ll get to get revenge when he’s a teenager, haha.

Okay. Here’s the never again part. Greg loves chicken-fried steak. At least he says he loves chicken-fried steak. Because the reality is that Greg never likes any chicken-fried steak he gets at any restaurant, save the one that shut down about 20 years ago.

So I decided to cook chicken-fried steak, which goes entirely against my nature. We had mashed potatoes, peas, gravy and rolls. My kitchen smells worse than McDonald’s. It was so GREASY. Yuk. It wasn’t all that great, either, in spite of being the top-rated recipe for that particular dish on AllRecipes.com. I just can’t stand spending an hour in the kitchen fryin’ up something so unhealthy for my family. And, Greg ate it, but he didn’t love it. In other words, it didn’t match up to K-Bobs. He didn’t say that, though. Not exactly. I’m glad he wasn’t all that thrilled, because I told him, this is it. The only time this crap will ever be made in my kitchen.