Fishin' accomplished

Hey kids,

What was that thing I said a couple days ago about not being a slug. Well, disregard that.

I did get a few things on my list crossed off, though. I made yummy fish tacos yesterday, pictured above. Little bits o' catfish, dredged in flour, dunked in egg and rolled in panko, and yes, dammit, I fried them. But isn't it more pleasant to say "pan-seared in a half inch of canola oil." Laid atop a bed of cabbage mixed with a bit of lime juice, mayo and cayenne sauce. I mentioned to my mom on the phone yesterday that I had made fish tacos, and she said, kinda sarcastically, "Mmmmmmmmm.... sounds good." I asked her if she had ever had one before, and she said, quite maddeningly, "Oh no, honey. We're in Tex-Mex country down here. We don't eat stuff like that."

"Stuff like that"?!?!?!? WTF. I should know better than to engage my mother in any sort of conversation about Mexican food. Her view of "decent" Mexican food is so razor-narrow, that we have almost come to blows talking about it. If it doesn't come from one of three restaurants that she frequents, it's absolute and utter garbage. Okay, so I refrained from telling her that as we were talking, I was googling "fish tacos corpus christi" and came up with about a gazillion restaurants that serve the damned things. I DO know better than to ever try and take her out for Mexican food. She sits there and complains and pushes the food around on her plate and doesn't eat it, and honest-to-god POUTS.

Anyway. I didn't meant this to turn into an indictment of my mother. Suffice it to say... I made fish tacos and they rocked.

I also cleaned out the fridge. And you know, once you throw out all the weeks-old leftovers, the condiments that have forever separated into watery layers, and emtpy out the soup that the veggie crisper has become, it's appalling how little food was actually in there. Wait wait wait! I'll go take a picture right now!



Pretty grim, eh? The bulk of what's there is actually an unopened jug of tomato juice that my mom had bought when she was last here six months ago, as well as her butter pickles and green olives. We don't eat "that kind of stuff," so it just sits there until she visits again. But it's squeaky clean in there now, and the first one of you that comes home and pastes a half-eaten lolly to the bottom of it (oh yes, Wavy... I found it...) gets banished to the back yard for the rest of the summer.

I did five loads of laundry, I waxed, I watched Jeopardy, I watched my two Blockbuster movies (both very slow-moving, but worth it). Basically all the stuff on my list that I could do without leaving the comfort of my house. What did I do with the balance of my weekend? Twelve (TWELVE!!!!!) hours of Big Love. The entire season on Tivo, back to back. What an awesome season I missed. Your daddy had been teasing me all season: "Wait'll you see who dies in the first episode! I don't know how they're going to keep doing the show with just the one wife!" Sheeeeeeesh.

It's almost 7 p.m. and I have been in my pajamas all day. I think I will take a shower and head out in search of something for dinner, cuz butter pickles smothered in tomato juice doesn't sound all that tasty. Stopping by the Redbox, too. I just now reserved Gran Torino and Vinyan online.

God, I am reading the above shite now, and how is it that I can write 650 words in nothing flat about a weekend in which I did ABSOLUTELY NOTHING, but it takes me two weeks and much anguish to write a 400-word music review for work. Maybe if someone would start PAYING me to blog and giving me a deadline, you guys wouldn't be inflicted so frequently by my confused ramblings.

Love you, miss you, come home soon!