Nothing says Sunday morning like the smell of bourbon chicken cooking

So while a good majority of the population is at church this morning, I’m, um, not. Hey, I can’t make my mom happy ALL of the time, right?
Craig belongs to the Church of the Holy Runners, therefore on Sunday mornings he partakes in his only opportunity of the week to hit the pavement for a long run. An insanely long, hot and painful run. I happen to be a member of the Church of the Sunday is the Only Day I Can Sleep in Past 7am, so you know what I was doing. That is, until Caroline, who is clearly not a member of my congregation, woke me up with an unreasonable demand for breakfast. I would have liked to have told her to shove it and make her own, but the cereal is hard to reach and the sound of her dragging a chair across the hardwood floors makes me cringe. We HAD a step stool, but SOMEBODY left it outside after using it for a boost during a tree climbing expedition. I still made her wait 15 minutes, because she couldn’t have been THAT hungry.

And so began my morning of non church attending heathenism. So what’s a girl to do?
Why, how about making some bourbon chicken? At 9am.

Since Craig works a swing shift and isn’t home for dinner, I have to prepare our dinners in advance. Sometimes he eats his dinner for lunch and then eats a sandwich for dinner, or vice versa. No matter the case, I have to plan and prepare our meals in advance. The tricky part is making meals that reheat well. Casseroles, soups, stews, chili, spaghetti all work well. Big hunks of meat and especially breaded chicken, oh and hamburgers, don’t because they just don’t survive the microwave in an appealingly edible fashion. I save those types of things for Craig’s days off.

It’s a little after 10am and dinner is done. I like that feeling.

Of course I’ll spend some extra time in the kitchen baking. Craig’s work mates like a little treat on Monday to help raise their spirits. Banana cupcakes with cinnamon cream cheese frosting and cream cheese swirl brownies with Heath bar are on tap. There must have been a sale on cream cheese, or something.

It’s going to be a pretty laid back day, something I quite enjoy. Caroline is over at the neighbor’s house playing Mario Kart so I’m relishing the quiet right now. But before long, my activities director will return shortly with a plan for lunch and the pool.

Caroline is like Julie McCoy from The Love Boat, except she doesn’t hold a clipboard.
I think that makes me Gopher.

Yeah, that sounds about right.


One response

  1. I first must comment and say that yes, you are a bad girl for not going to church. Hang your head in shame please. :)Where is the link for the bourbon chicken? Thank you for the other two links, but that chicken sounds good as well. Love the pic of you by the way. I like that your face pops up when you comment now! It's a nice shot of you, and if you are like me, you played with your automatic timer and took a hundred shots of yourself before you found one that you think represents you. I love the shot of me, but it's funny when people say they don't think it's really me.


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