Thursday night I was strolling with Handsome through our local Wally-marks in search of a very specific action figure toy to replace one Klaus had just destroyed. We were also in search of hot glue sticks to aid a possible repair job for said toy, a new, more appropriate chew toy for Klaus, and ice cream. Because apparently yesterday was both National Daughters’ Day and National Ice Cream Cone Day. Not that we need an excuse to celebrate our girls or buy ice cream. And not that we only ate only one cone.
A man passed me down the center aisle who was the spitting image of Brittany’s husband, so alike in features and expression (as far as I know him from her blog) that I could not resist trying to meet him. I said his name to see if he’d respond, “Noah!” Nothing. He walked past. I turned around and said it again, sort of toward his back.
“NOAH. Noah. Noah… (n-o-a-h...)” Again, nothing except a confused glance over his shoulder before he changed his retail trajectory with some stiff-backed abruptness. Apparently even grown men can feel creeped out.
To clarify, my second attempt to get his attention was less friendly and more hushed, like a descending, vibrating whisper, Friday-the-Thirteenth-soundtrack style. If that man was Noah, Mr. Vesuvius at Home, he clearly wanted nothing to do with being recognized by the crazy blonde wandering the toy department looking like she could really use some refined carbs at that moment.
Okay. That’s the end of that story.
Have you ever noticed that the fastest way to sand off some jagged edges from your heart is to bring them to light and invite the Universe to connect them with someone you love? If you want to have your ugliest opinions challenged, declare them staunchly. Use harsh, hurtful language, say something judgmental and condescending about another human being, and wait to see how long before you realize someone you love dearly and unconditionally falls into the category you have just slammed. It’s like counting seconds between lightning and thunder: how close is the storm? And then, can you weather it?
Okay, next:
When gardening, would you rather start with a smooth, uncultivated piece of earth, design your own garden from the ground up, having started fresh? Or would you rather dive into a wild, neglected space, re-imagining and reconstructing, nourishing what is diseased or forgotten, and breathe new life into it? Don’t make me choose. But if you make me choose, I will always go with the second option. Always.
Last thing. Have you tried this method of roasting chicken? I saw it recently on bon appetit and had to try. You brine some bone-in chicken pieces (yum) and cook them directly on the oven rack, no pan, allowing the juices to fall below to a tray of vegetables. The chicken turns out extra crispy and much less fatty. Gloriously golden and flavorful. The vegetables, on the other hand, are flavorful but turn out kinda mushy. I just don’t know. The Lazy W verdict is to continue with this chicken roasting method but leave an empty pan below, then just recycle that broth later. Let’s have stout, crispy veggies, ok?
Okay, cool.
What are your fun plans for this gorgeous weekend? Handsome and I are looking forward to some local art and street food, specifically the Ten Percent Celebration for Every Point on the Map, maybe family time and an outdoor movie at the farm, possibly an easy little car show. Should be a full, relaxing weekend with mild weather. I’m already happily exhausted.
Ok friends, go carpe some diems! Be nice to strangers. Be careful with your words. Choose your storms carefully whenever possible. And roast your chickens openly, no shame, no secrets. Thanks time a million for visiting.
ksh ksh ksh ksh ksh ksh ksh ksh
no no no no no no no no
XOXOXOXO
