Not that I really want to taunt Danny, one of my favorite commenters, but this is what I had for lunch on the 4th – along with some buttered corn. (Danny, seriously, you thought I’d have crock pot chicken on the 4th? Ouch.)
Porterhouse with a dash of curry, salt, pepper, garlic.
That’s right – PORTERHOUSE!!! Cooked it right up on the Bubba-Keg and chowed it down.
I am a free man in the greatest country around. (To my foreign readers: I love some of your countries as well, but the United States is my home and favorite.)
And, I had steak. With my wife. I sat on my patio and enjoyed my freedoms today while reflecting on the sacrifice of the founders and my fellow military members.
Some of those who sacrifice all the time are fire fighters. I was at the Cub store this morning and the boys in blue were all there grocery shopping. The rig outside had wicked art on it. I had to take a picture. And here it is: (Frogtown is a neighborhood near mine where the French Canadians were concentrated long ago. The name stuck even though the area is very different now.) 
Now night is falling and my terrified friend Stormy is hiding under the desk where I am typing.
Stormy seeking refuge from the – fireworks.
That’s a good thing. Last night I woke up at precisely 04:06 with a killer migraine. One of those “I’d cry harder from the pain but my face might fall off” muggers that wakes you up. A double dose of Sumatriptan and the two of us sat on my bed waiting for it to work. I needed her comfort at that moment just like she needs mine now. I was in agony. I’ve broken bones and it hurt less. Those of you with migraines know what I mean.
I’m blessed, the migraine monster doesn’t come more than two or three times a month and usually is staved off by timely application of medication. But last night’s woke me up. Railroad spike through the eye time.
Back to Stormy. Every day for the last few weeks we’ve gotten closer. The surgical leave, the thunderstorms, the fireworks – each event brought her seeking and accepting me a little bit more. It’s all good.
I’m going to schedule this to run in the morning and get back to working on a voice-over project.
I hope you all have a magnificent weekend.
Take a nice dog story and ruin it by throwing words of “If she hadn’t braved the early morning hours to drop a load “….. Where are your manners? Where is your professionalism? Where is your journalism etiquette? Go back to school and learn how to write!!
Actually, I was torn between “dropped a load” and “decorated the yard” but watching her frantic rush to relieve herself before the next explosion reminded me of a B-24 trying to “drop its load” before the German flak gunners got the range.
So, you see, I was merely trying for a different genre to emulate – nothing bad about it. This morning she was on a strafing run – well, enough of that!
So Joe…
Why did you not give your audience that recipe for the porterhouse instead of the crap crock pot chicken?
By the way, too much beef in the bowels is not good for you!!
I actually like the crock pot chicken, but couldn’t resist the joke.
Worry not about me and beef – we have an arrangement.