Holy COW, we had Bacon, Egg and Toast Cups for breakfast yesterday morning, and they were fabulous. I highly, highly recommend them!
You could, of course, make them a little healthier by using whole wheat bread and turkey bacon – not that I did that, you understand – and I accidentally left off the cheese, and don’t feel like I missed out on anything.
Had I made the bread myself, it would have been a completely Crooked Acres-produced meal.
I haven’t tried reheating leftovers, so I can’t say how they’d be (I’ll be reheating one for breakfast in a while, though) – but I suspect it’ll be pretty damn good.
I declared to Fred yesterday, after breakfast, that I think Bacon, Egg and Toast Cups are going to become a Sunday tradition for us!
“Bessie,” Fred said, late yesterday morning. “I’m bored. Let’s go for a drive!”
I considered, decided I had nothing pressing to do, and agreed. I grabbed my purse, slid into my sneakers, and followed him out the door. We stopped at the dollar store, looked around, and then left. Fred had talked about heading toward Decatur and taking a walk by the river, but changed his mind and we ended up driving toward Rogersville, where there are many bodies of water and a state park.
We made a wrong turn, then backtracked, and got going in the right direction. Along the way there were boats sitting by the side of the road for sale, and we took turns pointing them out to each other. Finally, we turned into Joe Wheeler state park and drove for miles down the road.
Along the way, we saw deer.
Finally, we arrived at the marina. I figured we’d just drive around the marina and then head home, but Fred parked the car.
“Want to go for a walk?”
It was a beautiful day – Saturday and Sunday were very cool and had not nearly the humidity you’d expect for August in Alabama – so I agreed to walk around the marina and look at the boats. We walked out to the end of a dock that had a pontoon boat tied at it, and watched the boats go by. We walked back to solid ground and continued walking along the water. When we arrived at the next dock, the walkway was blocked off by a gate and a sign was posted on the gate that read “Slip owners only.” I was disappointed, because there were some beautiful boats, and I’d wanted to walk along very slowly and eyeball what I could see of the inside of the boats.
My inner Mrs. Kravitz thwarted again, damnit.
We passed another dock and another – each dock had bigger and fancier boats. The third dock we passed had boats that were big enough to live comfortably on, and I was REALLY disappointed not to be able to see what they looked like close-up. We reached the last dock (the one with SATELLITE DISHES attached to each slip), and then turned around.
As we approached one of the dock we’d passed earlier, Fred looked around.
“Come on!” he whispered, pushing through the gate.
“What are you doing!” I whisper-yelled. “It says slip owners only! They’re going to throw us out!”
He pshawed. “So we get kicked out of the marina. Big whoop!”
His logic seemed infallible, so I followed along behind him and tried to look like I belonged.
We approached the first boat, a sailboat. Fred stopped and regarded it.
“Pretty, isn’t it?” he said.
I shrugged. “I guess.” I, personally, had my eye on a big-ass boat parked a few piers down. One that was so big it had a small motor boat parked ON TOP of it. This one:
And then I gawped at Fred as he stepped onto the boat.
“WHAT. THE. FUCK,” I growled. “Stop it! Get back here! Have you LOST YOUR MIND!” From down the pier, an older gentleman, busy washing his deck, stopped and glanced over at us, then waved and went back to what he was doing.
“Come ON!” he said, beckoning me. “There’s no one here!” He disappeared through the doorway, then popped his head back out, grinning.
I was in the midst of a panic attack, sure that at any moment the cops were going to come running at us and shoot me just for shits and giggles.
Fred waved to me again.
“Fuck NO,” I said. “You get your ass arrested, I’m staying here!”
He disappeared again, then again his head popped back out. He was a regular fucking Pop Goes the Weasel.
“Look!” he said. He waved a hand at me and I thought I was going to pass out. “Keys!”
Once again he disappeared, and a moment later I heard the boat’s engine start. I began backing away from the boat. Clearly my husband, the rule-followingest law-abidingest man I’d ever met, had taken leave of his senses completely.
“Let’s take it out for a cruise!” I heard him holler.
“I’m leaving!” I said, and began to do so.
“Bessie!” he called. “Wait!” I stopped and turned around. He walked onto the deck and held out both his arms. “HAPPY THIRTEEN YEARS IN ALABAMA!”
I stared at him.
“And I bet you thought I forgot!” He had an ear to ear grin on his face.
“Say hello to the Stanley B!”
People. Please. You really think my husband would really remember an anniversary?
(Besides, if he went out and bought a sailboat without talking to me about it first, I’d be writing about it from his funeral. And I don’t WANT a sailboat. Neither does he.)
SKIMMERS, READ THIS, BECAUSE I KNOW YOU’RE SKIMMING THROUGH THE REST OF THIS ENTRY TO LEAVE ME AN “OMG” MESSAGE.
Fred did not surprise me with a freakin’ sailboat. Please. We can’t afford that shit.
(He also didn’t board the boat. In fact, we didn’t really walk down the dock to the boat, because we are sickeningly rules-abiding folks.)
We can, however, afford this shit:
Nah, he didn’t buy me a paddle boat, either. In fact, he didn’t surprise me with anything this weekend.
Fucker.
Jake and Elwood are neutered and have their vaccinations (they have to go back in September for their booster shots), and they are doing well. Fred let them out Saturday morning, and there’s been very little in the way of hissing and smacking. The big cats, for the most part, sniff them and then ignore them. Kara doesn’t care for them, but as long as they don’t get up in her grill, she mostly leaves them alone.
At this point, we’re keeping them out during the day and just putting them in the guest bedroom at night. I don’t expect we’ll need to do that much longer, though – they’re pretty quiet little things and mostly interested in playing (and snuggling) with each other.
Jake’s a talker and likes to walk through the house howling for no apparent reason, and they’re both pretty cuddly. They’re both fond of hanging out in Fred’s bedroom, and spent most of the day yesterday in there. They also like to hang out on their cat tree in the guest bedroom.
I think having the run of the whole house makes them a little nervous; unexpected noises startle them, and they go flying. I’m sure as they get more comfortable having all this space, they’ll calm down.
Or maybe not – they are kittens, after all.
Wild thang. They LOVE to jump from the top of this little pyramid/ condo to the cat tree.
“Dear lord, please let me catch the laser light, it’s all I want in this world, thank you. Amen.”
Can’t decide which toy to play with…
“Whatchoo doin’ down there?”
“Nothin’. Whatchoo doin’ up there?”
“Nothin’.”
“I think you’re doin’ somethin’ down there and just not telling me about it.”
“Nope. Just watching the birds.”
“I was not messing with the lens cap. Nope! Not me!”
Previously
2008: No entry.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: SqueeSqueeSQUEESQUEE! the bird squealed.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: My computer is getting so freakin’ slow that it’s driving me absolutely batshit, and I’m spending way too much time swearing at it.
2000: No entry.