Daughters Are Dangerous

So I ended up cooking last night - which I assure you I had no intention of doing. You see, what with cousin Joshua and Mel and Mel's girlfriend all in the house, every time I feel like I might want to cook something, the kitchen magically fills up with people who are cooking something else. (Mel's girlfriend Rebecca makes wonderful jerk chicken.) But frankly, due to the sheer numbers of people in the kitchen half the time (and also due to my strange appetite problems), I usually just wait until the kitchen has cleared out before I do anything. Ergo, I wasn't intending to make dinner last night, but it turned out that Joshua had told Mel not to worry about cooking on Easter because I was doing it. It's good thing Mel told me about this the day before, since Joshua didn't actually mention it to me.

At any rate, I threw together a terminally dull meal - baked ham, green beans, and redskinned potatoes with scallions (the scallions were supposed to be parsley, of course, but I somehow wandered off into space while at the checkout counter in the grocery store and didn't realize that the checker left the parsley out of the bags - the scallions were fine, as a matter of fact - I sauteed them in a little butter before I mixed then with the potatoes). It wasn't at all a BAD meal, you understand - just sort of boring. Except for the ham, of course - I make terrific ham. (You glaze it with Dijon mustard, honey, and some powdered cloves.)

However, my child was there, and somehow or another after dinner Sarah and I got into our fun mode. This is invariably a disaster, because what happens is that we get into showing each other (and Mel, in this case - which didn't help because of course then we had somebody new to bounce things off of) our favorite Youtube bits, and telling stories, and laughing...and this always happens on a night where both of us have to get up in the morning and we always stay up WAY too late...i.e., 4 this morning. (We've been known to see the dawn come up like thunder when we really get going.) (And NEVER on a Friday or Saturday, damn it.)

Do not, if you value your sanity, be my age and stay up until 4 am and then get up to go to work at 7 am. I could do this when I was 26. I can still do it, but it takes me a week to recover. Thank God for a temp job where the only thing I have to do is try desperately to remember whose phones I'm answering that day - and, when I take my cigarette and/or lunch breaks, what the hell floor I'm working on. All this was extremely difficult today.

I'm going to bed. Because if I don't I'm going to fall asleep with my head on the keyboard, and my ears will type reams of nonsense...which will probably not be too much different than what I write in the first place, but who wants to be read for the deathless prose of their ears?

Love, Wendy