And So It Is

My daughter, aka the Ed, Nikki, etc, would be pleased to know that I slapped open my Cooking Light Annual 2006 Cook Book and proceeded to look for a nice Sunday dinner out of the extraordinaire. Here is what my oldest son, aka Puddy, Pud, Jr, and I came up with.

Cherry Glazed Cornish Game Hens with Sourdough Cherry Stuffing.

It used at least a 3/4 of a round loaf of sourdough bread, cut in small cubes and left to dry on a large baking sheet for the day. Once dry enough, you sauteed some diced onion, celery and carrots in at least 4 tablespoons of butter. Once the mixture had a clear look to it, you added 2 cups of fat free, low sodium chicken broth and at least 2/3 cups of dried cherries and let it simmer for about 2 min. You then add this to the dry bread cubes and toss.

The glaze is simmered on the stovetop and is reduced, using cherry preserves, port wine and diced onion and garlic.

The hens are rinsed, patted dry and stuffed. Roast at 475 for 15 min. Remove from oven and baste the hens with all of the reduced glaze. Roast an additional 35 min at 400 basting every 10 min with the juice stuff from the bottom of the pan.

Yummy! The stuffing was superb and had a sweet tangy taste that I loved.

Oh we also made Nikki's famous lite waffles, check it out at www.honeycuttkitchen.blogspot.com. However, I forgot to add the oil LOL.

On another note, what the fuck is this world coming to when you have a deranged, insane, shithead like whats his name from N. Korea setting off a nuclear bomb.

The Tush Push

By the by, last winter I got some gawd awful flu that had me hugging the toilet and and wearing toilet paper around my bottom like a pair of panties. (A thought just crossed my mind that this will a second post about the affairs of my tush). So I vowed on that day that I would get a flu shot this year. My husband (aka Honey, Dear, Max, etc), ever pragmatic and a stickler for making appointments, was making an appointment to get his a few days ago. So I jumped on the flu shot bandwagon and begged him to make an appointment for me too.

So we both wander to out appointment like good children, on the way in to the SHOT ROOM, he realized he had missed his name as they called it out, so he was sneaking in on my appointment. Him, being the charmer that he is persuaded the nurse that it was all good to be in the room with me to share the experience. Me being childlike at times, asked to get the shot first, since my name was called and he was stealing my personal shot time. I mean really. She acquiesced, and while she was sticking the needle in my tender arm I turned to my husband and said "Hahaha, I got my shot first." He answered so, and all the retorts that come with an answer to a dare of not being before his beloved wife in the fu shot order. I think we amazed the SHOT LADY with our childlike abilities.

In the end-as punishment for being in the flushot order of things, I got very sick whilst the charmer went on his merry way to the wine box he pulls out of the pantry. It doesn't pay to mock those in second. May the wine gods forgive me.

Oh My Got

I know, I know. A whole year has gone by. Well almost. Here's whats been happening. *Thinks hard-pauses for a bit. Leaves the desk and gets coffee, reads the paper, lets the cats in, feeds them, ponders taking a shower, and realizes home business allows jammies, scruffy hair and bad breath, wanders past the landing and notices that blog is still up*

Thats whats been happening! Living! Ok, so I need to reschedule my barium enema to see whether or not I have something going on in the nether reaches of my rectum, besides the usual shit. I couldn't have it done the last time because *sniffles and dammit* I FUCKING HATE the fleet stuff they make you drink to clear your system up. So I didn't finish the stuff, then I didn't drink enough liquids for it to clear me up. This Russian woman, god bless her, over at ANMC was the assistant that came to get me from the lobby and escort me back to the enema chambers. I noticed that she was having a difficult time speaking english, and me being who I am, decided to tell her that I can understand Russian (I took a class in 1993 for two years, yeah I know every nuance now for the rest of my life), so she switches to Russian whilst telling me to change my clothes into a gown (that I understood, cause she led me to the bathroom and there was a gown waiting for me). I came out and she prattled on in Russian as she laid me on the cold concrete slab thingy, telling me that a balloon will be inserted you know where, etc etc, (how I got that I don't know), and that I am to hold my butt cheeks together for as long as I could..at least it sounded like she said that.

Well in the end - the x-ray showed that I am full of shit and can't have the barium x-ray done that day. So now I need to schedule another one.