It’s Spartan weekend.
And every damn person involved has bailed or is significantly compromised in some way.
But I cooked for this thing.
So folks better show up.
Ok. So what you’re looking at here is a plate full of shrimp. That I cooked. Complete with olive oil. And garlic. And salt and pepper.
It’s possible I didn’t read the packaging correctly.
I saw EZ Peel and read “peeled.”
I did manage to pull a few of them out of the hot oil and peel them quickly before they cooked through.
And burned off all of my fingerprints in the process.
Which I feel like that may come in handy someday. Like maybe there are some homicidal tendencies somewhere in there. That I’m now prepared to act on. And remain free.
Explained to my son what happened. And that this was the dinner I’d prepared for us.
He proceeded to tell me about his plans to move out soon.
…I don’t think the two are related…
So, now what you’re looking at here is a frozen lasagna.
That I prepared for our trip to somewhere in North Carolina this weekend.
(Shhhh. It’s fine. We’ll figure out where we’re going before we get there…)
It’s covered because I don’t need anyone seeing it until Saturday night. When we’re too exhausted from our Beast for anyone to judge me.
I’m not even sure how they let me volunteer to bring a lasagna. For everyone to eat.
They’ve all met me.
I’m not domesticated.
But I am healthy.
Unlike Rogue and Tiny Brazilian. Who both brought some form of plague back with them from the other side of the world.
And Fall Risk. Whose ankle has manifested spontaneous bruising in an effort to try to get her out of her first Spartan.
It’s like her ankle doesn’t even know us.
My boy bailed on us. For substitute parenting responsibilities. So, there will be no one to carry me through anything.
And DICtator bailed on us. Yesterday. Something about babies and wifes responsibilities and blah blah blah. And then sent me this.
That looks nothing like me.
I almost never have straight hair.
It’s cool. He wasn’t gonna be helping anyone through any obstacles anyway.
So, it’s just me and three broken chicks for this one.
Like, everyone’s safety and success is in my hands.
No, I’m sure it will be fine.
We’ve got lasagna to look forward to…