Here’s the deal: I had a blog. A lovely blog. A most excellent blog. A blog that is better and better in my mind with each passing moment. And then it got eaten. Now I do usually copy and save before daring to hit the “post this entry” button; I mean we all know that yahoo eats stuff sometimes, and we’ve all suffered the very real trauma and anxiety of having our carefully composed wonders disappear into the yahell ether. But it’d been going so well, no eating lately, that I, lulled into a false sense of security, just clicked the button. Stupid. Blank page entry thing appears. No blog. Crap.
So here’s the recap (and they’re never as good, right?). Something something Fanta something something fresh food. And then something wonderfully witty and articulate about jarred, boxed, and canned foods as compared to free range (expensive but I’m sure much more humane and healthy) chickens and hand rolled and cut pasta . . .
Raving about the wonders of no boil lasagna, though it’s laden with preservatives, toxins, and a variety of other cancer inducing agents. Convenient, though, huh?
Something something about preferring angel hair pasta to spaghetti pasta because the latter is so thick and icky, and also a confession about liking my pasta cooked to within an inch of its life. I dislike al dente pasta. A lot.
Then something something something about canned stuff and my using the last can of mushrooms and not having them for the pic:
And then a heartfelt and hilarious confessional featuring my admitting that I eat . . .
Yes, that’s right, it was all there for you to read. I’m only one step up from a naked grunting neanderthal about to partake in some fun loving cannibalism. Sigh.
Oh, but I know I said that I can make a good fresh meal and a decent creme brulee. But not in the same paragraph with the SpaghettiO’s thing. Hmmm.
I’m sure there was a mention of shoes, too, but I can’t remember how I worked that in, either.