Day 162, self quarantine:
Sunday, August 23, 2020
Sunday, August 23, 2020
Morning!
So not only did Gary already know about the raccoon in the yard, he already had an inappropriate name for it and then...and then...
And then.
He proceeded to tell me about every critter he’s seen in our yard, house, and neighborhood.
And now I want to move.
😂😂😂😂😂😂
Though I do want to meet the possum.
😂😂😂😂😂😂
Good times at Casa Slick.
So I confessed my urgent need for comfort food and Gary delivered.
We scored some fresh ears of corn and Gary probably made the best corn chowder I ever ate (ducking as Julie throws something at me from Seattle because everyone knows she’s the Soup Nazi) and it’s completely vegan though you’d never believe it’s not made with butter or cream.
All he did was sauté shallots and garlic, added four small chopped red potatoes, two cups of vegetable broth and two cans of coconut milk. He seasoned with Aleppo pepper and smoked paprika. Then he added six raw ears of corn, still on the cob, threw a lid on the pot, and simmered the whole thing for around ninety minutes. He removed the corn, puréed the soup with the immersion blender, took the corn off the cob, put half back in the soup, blended again, then added remaining corn, left that chunky, and omg, it was INSANE.
I could seriously eat soup every night for dinner.
With bread, of course.
Oh, and salad. 😜
I’m vacillating between a salad and pasta cacciatore for dinner tonight. Gary is pushing for the pasta, I will see how hungry I feel later.
But oh, his pasta cacciatore.
I’m gonna try and ignore Donald today but I will tell you this - more and more people are calling out his lies and laughing at him.
And notable people in his own party are starting to defect.
I’m down with that.
I won’t be completely happy until he’s in prison or a nursing home.
So I’m hoping today is chill because I have a rough week of work coming up tomorrow as one does when they are taking the next ten days off.
I seriously need to kill it this week.
And then spend vacation making some big decisions.
Haha I should call it what it is.
Staycation.
Or, as I should really call it, the week I get Gary to start parting with some of his things upstairs.
Or as Gary would call it, devascation.
Ooh, I’m gonna copyright that.
Anyway, I have to go upstairs and continue the Gary wake up process I started an hour ago when I brought him his coffee because it’s our bimonthly seniors shopping hour at Trader Joe.
This time I won’t eat the pancake bread but I have a huge interest in these, which I’ve never had.
Neopolitan JoeJoes really?
I know, why would I want these when I live with Gary, master cookie baker?
Sigh...it all goes back to my tortured youth and the reward system.
I have to do something I don’t want to? (In this case, food shopping)
There must be a reward!
The reward must contain sugar!
And there you have it, the reason I will never be really thin.
I have no more fucks to give.
Peace out, people. I’m off to get my JoeJoes.
