Feeling Fried
Tonight Carl and I are going out to dinner, so I fried a chicken.
Huh??
The story starts two weeks ago, when Carl and I had planned on going out for a romantic-type evening. ("Romantic" means "not a hockey game".) The girls were going to spend the night at a neighbor's. However, Mary got sick, so we had to cancel the evening. Now, fast forward to Thursday, February 24 (yesterday). I went shopping, and while at the grocery store I bought some chicken hindquarters with the intention of frying them for supper. But then Carl called and said he had to work late, so I put off frying the chicken (intending it for supper tonight) and the girls and I got fast food. When Carl got home, we decided to go out tonight instead (the girls are going to the nightbor's) but I didn't want the chicken to spoil, so I fried it and we'll eat it for leftovers. Everybody got that?
This will not necessarily be a romantic evening out, though. After supper we plan on going clothes shopping for Carl. He has to go to Sao Paulo, Brazil March 5 - 14, and he needs some new "business casual" shirts and ties. (Sao Paulo is Portuegese for either "Saint Paul" or "way too far away from Iowa".) With Carl being an engineer, he will definitely need help since most engineers have the fashion sense of a snail - their main fashion criteria is "Is there a pocket on this shirt for my pens?". Poor guy. Besides, Carl hasn't bought any new clothes for, oh, maybe two years, so he's about due.
I'm really not happy about him going to Brazil. He's going with his Master's Degree class for an "international business experience" but I wish they would have picked somewhere closer (and safer) like Canada. He's going to be on an airplane for 12 hours, and after September 11 I feel really queasy when anyone I love has to fly any farther than, say, the distance it takes to jump from the diving board to the pool. But Carl's had all the shots and stuff needed for the trip, so I guess there's not much I can do about it except pray that he comes home safely. That, and conspire with the girls to make him feel really guilty at the airport. ("Daaaady!! I don't want you to go!! Waaaaah!!) I already feel like crying.
The good news is, though, that I won't have to do much cooking. The girls and I can live on Ampride pizza, Wendy's and Schwan's stuff for ten days, no problem. I've already mentioned in a previous blog that I can't cook. If it wasn't for my wonderful mother-in-law, I wouldn't know how to fry a chicken. Seriously. She stood in my kitchen a couple of years ago and fried a chicken while I watched her. She gave me step by step instructions, and I took notes. She even showed me how to make pan gravy. Neat, huh?
So now I must go and prepare for the evening's festivities. I need to get the girls' stuff together, and then change clothes. Anyone know how to say "goodbye" in Portuegese?
Huh??
The story starts two weeks ago, when Carl and I had planned on going out for a romantic-type evening. ("Romantic" means "not a hockey game".) The girls were going to spend the night at a neighbor's. However, Mary got sick, so we had to cancel the evening. Now, fast forward to Thursday, February 24 (yesterday). I went shopping, and while at the grocery store I bought some chicken hindquarters with the intention of frying them for supper. But then Carl called and said he had to work late, so I put off frying the chicken (intending it for supper tonight) and the girls and I got fast food. When Carl got home, we decided to go out tonight instead (the girls are going to the nightbor's) but I didn't want the chicken to spoil, so I fried it and we'll eat it for leftovers. Everybody got that?
This will not necessarily be a romantic evening out, though. After supper we plan on going clothes shopping for Carl. He has to go to Sao Paulo, Brazil March 5 - 14, and he needs some new "business casual" shirts and ties. (Sao Paulo is Portuegese for either "Saint Paul" or "way too far away from Iowa".) With Carl being an engineer, he will definitely need help since most engineers have the fashion sense of a snail - their main fashion criteria is "Is there a pocket on this shirt for my pens?". Poor guy. Besides, Carl hasn't bought any new clothes for, oh, maybe two years, so he's about due.
I'm really not happy about him going to Brazil. He's going with his Master's Degree class for an "international business experience" but I wish they would have picked somewhere closer (and safer) like Canada. He's going to be on an airplane for 12 hours, and after September 11 I feel really queasy when anyone I love has to fly any farther than, say, the distance it takes to jump from the diving board to the pool. But Carl's had all the shots and stuff needed for the trip, so I guess there's not much I can do about it except pray that he comes home safely. That, and conspire with the girls to make him feel really guilty at the airport. ("Daaaady!! I don't want you to go!! Waaaaah!!) I already feel like crying.
The good news is, though, that I won't have to do much cooking. The girls and I can live on Ampride pizza, Wendy's and Schwan's stuff for ten days, no problem. I've already mentioned in a previous blog that I can't cook. If it wasn't for my wonderful mother-in-law, I wouldn't know how to fry a chicken. Seriously. She stood in my kitchen a couple of years ago and fried a chicken while I watched her. She gave me step by step instructions, and I took notes. She even showed me how to make pan gravy. Neat, huh?
So now I must go and prepare for the evening's festivities. I need to get the girls' stuff together, and then change clothes. Anyone know how to say "goodbye" in Portuegese?
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