It’s Firday the 13th…spell check is on vacation, and I’ve had 2 glasses of wine and 1-1/2 James Beard’s Cheese Hamburgers. Not cheeseburgers. No. Cheese hamburgers. Yum, y’all. Anyway, my tummy is full, my head is relaxed thanks to the last of the ginormous bottle of cheap pinot grigio, and it’s Friday.
to 1 pound of ground beef (I like chuck) add 1/2 a small onion, grated. 1 cup of shredded cheddar, 2 spoonfulls of minced garlic, a generous splash each of worcestershir sauce and hot sauce. Mix it all up together and form into some patties. Grill and make into your favorite form of hambuger. I like whole grain buns, lotsa mayo, tomatoes and lettuce.
Anyway, I love the way a couple of glasses of cheap white wine make me feel. All soft around the edges and stuff. Ok fine, lecture me if you will. What I really want to know is when the house elf is going to get off his duff and clean up the kitchen. It won’t take long. The dishwasher is dirty and all I have to do is stuff the dishes in it and fix up the coffee pot for in the morning. I hate waking up and having to wait for the coffee, so it’s on a timer and all. One of my self indulgencies, I reckon.
We’re watching Chuck Connors in a spectacularly bad movie that I think is meant to be a follow up to 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea but only succeeds in being cheesy and predictable. There’s a couple of lovely women, a child with a kitten, and 2 bumbling thieves that are always plotting but yo can tel they won’t succeed by the comedic-relief music thatplays whenever they come in the room. Oh and there’s this ferocious mutant sting ray thing…anyway. I’m thinking oce the dishes are thrown in the washer and the coffee is made (maybe) I’ll head on to bed and let the wine do it’s thing.
Tomorrow, after Terry sleeps as long as he wants and I do as well, we’re going to Charleston, to spend the weekend with some friends and see Patriot’s Point where there’s battleships and guy stuff. Terry and #4 will do male bonding rituals and I am not sure what I’m going to do…find a shady spot and a cold drink, and watch male bonding rituals, most likely. I am hoping flounder will be involved somehow. Bill has informed us that he intends to take anyone under the age of 21 flounder gigging Saturday night, which means those of us over 21 will likely participate in some kind of alcohol-related activity. Knowing our friends, margaritas will be in order. Maybe a beach as well. I can live with that. I am as yet undecided about photographic participation…maybe I’ll take the camera, maybe not. Who knows. At any rate, there will surely be some intense relaxation going on. In chairs, with sand. Maybe a sunburn or two. Time will tell.