Travels with The Rayman

OMG. What a night we all had. It went something like this. 21 eaters, 18 judges, 3 cooks of cioppino. 3 salad makers, a zillion bottles of vino…and two desserters!! But only one winner.

 
This was a great party idea. The contest got everyone in the mood for raspberries…both verbal and then real (over lemon ice cream!).

Cook number one was Jeff.

 
Cook number two was Larry aka Lorenzo.

 
And moi (cook number three). Since you all know what I look like, here is our group pic before the dinner was served.
I decided to serve the salad as an appetizer/salad course. Followed by the cioppino (one at a time) with the fresh homemade bread ala Bevalina. Her she is!
We didn’t give a prize for the best dressed…but if we had, she would have won!!

So…we ate the salads and then began lining up for the piece de resistance(s). Yummy.

Cioppino is basically a seafood stew and was originally contrived as a way to use up stuff (my theory anyway). As cooks it is handy to learn how to use up stuff. Limp piece of celery in the frig? Throw it in? Fennel bulb been sitting there for a week? Throw that in. Carrot going a bit soft on you? Another candidate for soup. In this case, however, I’ll bet we cooks use new stuff. I did.

Fish. That’s another matter. Fish cannot be over the hill…it needs to be fresh, fresh, fresh. Speaking for myself, I bought a fresh cooked, cleaned and cracked dungeness crab and came home and picked out all the meat. It was all I could do not to eat it here and there. Dungeness is simply the best…fresh only. Not frozen. Not canned. Fresh. Cioppino does not require crab. It could have just firm fleshed fish. Or it could just have clams, mussels, shrimp. Heck, I guess you could throw in anything from the sea. What a fabulous dish. Fish floating in a tomato based broth which often times includes copies amounts of wine, basil, oregano, thyme, butter, olive oil and all the veggies such as those mentioned above. Or any other thing, I suppose.

The Soup line:

 
The bread was fabulous. Ciabatta and caramelized onion bread…yummy, yummy for the tummy.

And did I mention all the fun that was had? Lots to talk about with lots of people because one of the requirements was that between serving, people had to get up and move so that the conversations got “shook up”. Or is that “shaken up”? Not sure which was is more correct but you get the drift. I highly recommend this strategy for a big dinner party because it gives everyone an opportunity to talk with different people all night long. And since there were a few couples that were new to the group…it worked like a charm.
Then there were the cleaners-uppers. Oh, bless them. Washing, drying…making our life easier. Not expected but truly appreciated. What a great group.

Then came the voting…a secret ballot. There was an uprising brewing…some said the cioppinos were all good and that voting should not take place. Those were the politically correct people, I presume. There was also a group that said, “We have to vote. There’s a trophy!” So the group voted and Lorenzo won the smackdown. His cioppino was zesty and the group ate it up, if you’ll pardon the pun. So, he brought the trophy and he took it home. As it should be (gggggghhhhhhrrrrrrr).
So…what’s next? A chili cook-off? Perhaps. Patricia volunteered her kitchen for the next competition. How fun will that be?
Here’s the trophy that Larry earned (and bought!!).

We were saying our goodbyes and here came the Watts. They had to attend another party that night but they came over after their earlier party and brought some fabulous port with them. How fun that they came over to have some fun!! So we sat around and talked until Rayman started falling asleep (some might say pass out!). He did revive himself and about 15 minutes after everyone was gone, I found him on bended knee cleaning the kitchen floor. Really? Really. I immediately accused him of martyrdom and urged him to go to bed…if he could stand up to do it. Too funny.
Excuse me folks, but my mom didn’t even mention me. I put on a tie and was the perfect little doggie for the occasion. And I might add that I stole the show, in my opinion. And I helped out too. Whenever something in the kitchen hit the floor, I was there to help clean up. I sat when asked, I got along with everyone, I even sat quietly in Laurie’s lap for a long time. So, tell me, what is a puppy to do to get properly recognized?
“Beau. Get away from that computer”. Hi, I’m back. Here’s Beau in his party clothes. Thought you’d like to see him too. He was there and was the on his best behavior all evening. He won over some hearts!!

Ciao!! Now, on to the next party!!

The Rayman turned 65 yesterday. The good news is, he is on Medicare and that saves us some major dinero. The bad news is, he is getting OLD. I should know. Me too!!

Cake is what usually comes to mind for a birthday celebration so I asked the Rayman what kind of cake he wanted. Thinking outside the cake pan, he requested a lemon meringue pie (LMP). Yummy. Who doesn’t love LMP? The tart, the sweet, the combo is a match made in heaven. So, yes, I would make him a LMP. Here’s a pic.

 
Yummy meringue. It’s cooked so it really holds and beats to unimagined heights.

http://www.finecooking.com/recipes/lemon-lime-meringue-pie.aspx is the site for the recipe. I used

C & H brown sugar. This will make more sense when you read the article. Anyway, hope you try it.

Another story. While boiling the sugar and water for the meringue, I used a candy thermometer to make sure I stop boiling it at the right time. So…when Ray was cleaning the pan (he did it voluntarily), he noticed that the glass on the thermometer was broken. OMG…where was the missing glass? Here’s Uncle Ralph and Claudia (they came down for dessert) waiting to eat and I’m worried about A.) where was the GLASS B.) is there mercury in my meringue? C.) should we even eat it? Our stomachs won the debate over our minds. We cheerfully chowed down the pie (perhaps gingerly while listening for glass crunching) and so far so good.

Before making the pie, Rayman and Beau and I walked up the hill behind our house. The day was splendid as you can see from the pic below. Oh, and notice his hat? He was lucky to get it back. As we reached the apex of the hill, a gust of wind blew up and his hat took off down the hill. So off he went chasing it thru the field down the hill to retrieve it. Never a dull moment.

Hard to believe it’s FEB. 8th.

Ray received a barbecue ‘aid’ for his birthday (for his Weber). As most of you know, we always use hardwood or mesquite for barbecuing. We have been tempted to go ‘gas’ because of the rotisserie feature. But Weber came up with an accessory that solved that problem.
So, tonight we barbecued a chicken on a spit. Fabulous!! Here’s another picture of the completely cooked bird. Perfectly cooked. Perfectly delicious.
The funniest thing that happened on his birthday is that Ray went down to change his clothes for dinner. After about 10 minutes, I inquired about his whereabouts by shouting down the stairs, “Ray”. He called back and, dare I say, with an attitude. So I went down to investigate. Somehow, he had threaded his belt thru the first loop in his pants and it got stuck there. He tried to unstick it. I tried to unstick it. Perhaps some soap to make the silver point at the end of the belt be slippery? No, Ray didn’t want to do that. So, he put on another pair of pants and another belt and we left the house. It was when he was in the car that he said, “And I had a hell of a time getting out of those pants.” Just imagining him trying to slither out got me to laughing. Really, I don’t know how he did it. Somethings are best left to the imagination…maybe.

Oh, well. Moving right along. You know, life is like a roll of toilet paper. The closer to the end the faster it goes. So…we are busy taking advantage of being alive…and I hope you are too!!

And do I have news on the website!! My exhaustive blogging is now split between two websites. You are reading this on travelswiththerayman.com. Earlier posts can now be found on adventureswiththerayman.com.

Two different domain names were needed because the software to create the blogs was different. I started out using iWeb software for my initial blogs. Then I started using Sandvox for this website because Apple will be going to the iCloud and I was afraid I lose my earlier stuff. (this is as close to untechnical as I can get. If it gets anymore technical, I’ll get confused!!)

So…if you want to read my earliest blogs, log on to adventureswiththerayman.com.

Finally, I think my organizational problems are fixed. At the top of this site, you will notice that there are two headings…Big Trips and California Dreamin. All our trips will fall under Big Trips and everything else is under California Dreamin so I hope you find this easier to use.

Okay, finally…finally, Beau went wine tasting!! Here is a picture of him at a winery.
And here he is with his new friend, Bella. At the end of day of wine tasting!!

Picture of a dessert I did which, has nothing to do with the story below. Just thought you all might like to see something good to eat!!

Have you ever looked for a birthday card at a store? Of course you have. And have you noticed all the funny cards that allude to the fading memory skills of the “over the hill” set? Well, I have and I’m not so sure that they are that funny…they hit too close to home.

Case in point. A few days ago (I can’t remember when), I was on the phone with my friend Ruthie and she was complaining about how people don’t pay attention to her. Seems that she called to reconfirm an appointment and then when she arrived…the manicurist (?, can’t remember the details) announced that her appointment was earlier. And this was annoying because as we are getting older, we are making more mistakes with our calendars. GGGRRRRRR. As she was relaying this story to me, I was on my computer and I decided I’d better check the calendar for the day’s events. EEEEEEEKKKKKKKKK. I had a hair appointment scheduled for 9:00 a.m. The time was 8:45.

I was in my jamies, on the phone, discussing messed up appointments…so I ran downstairs while still talking with Ruth, changed my clothes and then confessed to Ruth that I had to run…if I didn’t, I would be late for an appointment that I forgot that I had. Laughing ensued.

By exceeding the speed limit all the way to Morro Bay, I was able to arrive right on time. When I came into the shop, my hair guy said, “What are you doing here?” I said, “I have an appointment at 9, don’t I?” He said, “Well, I have you down for 11 this morning.” YYYYYIIIIIIIKKKKKKEEEEEESSSSSS.

So, you see, these greeting cards might be spot on but they are annoying. We are perfectly aware that we are not totally aware (I can site many good excuses…such as my iphone didn’t synch, I forgot to look at the calendar, ‘you mean today is Tuesday?’) of things the way we used to be when we had to work, shop, rear children, clean house, do the laundry…yada, yada, yada. How the hell did we do it all? And keep our sanity… let alone our calendar? I mean, today we have the house cleaned, the nest is empty, we eat out 4 times a week, our favorite outfit is levis and a tee-shirt (read easy laundry) and we still can’t remember stuff.

So, you smarty-pants card makers (like Hallmark)…just lay off the ‘memory’ cards. It isn’t that funny. our RAM is full, the hard drive hasn’t been updated…and our cooling fan is on the fritz.

But I digress. Oh, no. I didn’t digress. OMG. Where was I? What was I saying? Oh, just forget it. Good night.

Dear readers, it’s just one of those rainy days that should not go without mention. For no particular reason.

Here I sit in my recliner having just consumed the most delicious meal right here in the confines of my home.
Braised duck legs in a port reduction sauce with parsnip, turnip, prune gratin. Ooh, la la. Quite the meal.

Doogie Beau is turning into a teenager. He is into everything…just destroyed a cheap headset…chewed the foam right off the ear pieces. And after all we do. So my advice to all is this. If you want to get a dog…get it NOW. We aren’t getting any younger and young doggie shenanigans add up…if you get my drift. Having said that, we love the Beau. He is sweet, so sweet…usually.

Excuse me people…but my parents don’t understand me. I’m a dog and I have requirements. This includes needing attention…I need lots of attention and if they don’t pay attention…well, I just do what I do. Can’t blame a dog for that, now can you? Mom and dad are great in that they drag me out of the house every couple of hours and say something like, “Go Beau. Do your business”. I have no idea what they are meaning exactly. So I frolic in the ice plant. Meanwhile they are saying, “Go Beau and do your business” again. Really. That’s what they do. I’m sure I’ll figure it out one of these days. I do understand “fetch” and “sit” and “stay”…but this business stuff. I don’t know.

Okay, well, I’ve recaptured the computer from the dog. He is such a rascal. And now I’m listening to the soundtrack from Midnight in Paris, that fabulous movie that Woody Allen did. Love the music. It’s available now…of course, I screwed up and before I finally bought it, I bought the movie and another soundtrack labelled Midnight in Paris that has absolutely nothing to do with the movie. Oh, well. Such a geek…I am not. I wonder if I can copy the movie to a DVD? if so, I can watch that movie again and again. Really? Does anyone really do that? Watch a movie over and over? And why Midnight in Paris? How about Noon in Paris? Three P.M. in Paris? I think I know why…Midnight in Paris…sounds so fabulous!!

Last night Ray and I went to see War Horse. I’d like to know what you think if you saw it. The photography was beautiful…but I just didn’t get into it. I’m not sure I’m thrilled with any movie with the word ‘war’ in the title. I know this. I won’t watch it again. Once was enough. Oh, and I’m sad to report that the theater in Morro Bay closed for renovation and they re-did the toilets which was sorely needed but they raised the price of the ticket to $8. OMG. Highway robbery when we can stay at home and watch a movie for $4.99 with On Demand (from DirecTV). Did they shoot themselves in the foot? I mean they don’t even have a matinee price…and we live in a community of retired folks.

Did I ever tell you about the time I was called for jury duty and they trial involved a man accused of shooting a horse in the foot. Really. You can’t make this stuff up. Didn’t get selected. Don’t know what ever happened to that poor man. Prosecutorial zeal is what I chalk it up to.

Well, guess I’ll close…company coming over to view my award-winning DVD on our trip to Australia and New Zealand. They are interested in traveling there and actually want to see a vacation DVD. Who knew?

Finally, my tooth is getting better. Well, actually my missing tooth and the surrounding territory are getting better, I think. I hope. So, I have a big hole in my line up of teeth and now I have to figure out if I want to get an implant or a partial or what. What do poor people do? What do affluent people do? And the in-betweeners?

But I digress. Decisions must be made. I mean the other teeth in my mouth aren’t exactly healthy. Most have had root canals. All are crowned or capped except for the bottom fronts. My mouth has cost me a lot over the years and I’m just talking dentistry here. But that discussion will not go further…who wants to expose previous errors involving the mouth? Let’s just leave it at that.

So…as the Parisian music plays, it reminds me of travels in France. For heaven’s sakes, if you haven’t read about our trip to France, you should. We had many adventures and I highly recommend it.

Below is a terrible picture I took with my Iphone. The guy to the right of the guy with the dark vest on is Woody Allen. Heard him play his clarinet. Was actually in the same room with him for almost 2 hours. Sorry about the quality. Really, I could say that was anyone and how would you know? But, it really was Woody. He has a lot of energy for a man in his, how old is he now?

Here he is sitting down in front of the bass.

And for your listening pleasure is one of cuts from the Midnight in Paris soundtrack!!

Nighty, night.

Approaching the dentist’s office, I practiced being cool, calm, collected. Greetings around. That sort of thing. I mean, when you go to the dentist and the ‘office’ people ask you how you are…do you brightly say, “Fabulous”, while at the same exact time wonder what on earth just made you say that…or do you know fess up and say, “Horrible. I’m here aren’t I?”. Or how about, “I’m scared you’ll hurt me and charge me a bundle of money to do it”. Or something in between?

I may have said that I was sad that I was going to lose my $10,000 tooth. Much time and expense had been contributed to the saving of this tooth. Tooth 31. Lower right (looking out of my mouth). Next to the last in that chain of teeth. It started years before. First cavities filled with a mercury cocktail paste. Then it advanced to a crown, perhaps. Then there was the root canal years back, followed by the crown again. Then suddenly last summer, the tooth turned on it’s host. An abscess had formed around the root. X-rays were taken to confirm the worst. That’s when I learned that a tooth once ‘rooted’ could be ‘rooted’ again in certain cases. An appointment was secured with a specialist. He confirmed what the other dentist thought and recommended a second root canal on tooth 31.

The specialist dentist wasn’t hard to look at but I didn’t like what he said. There were no guarantees. The root canal procedure might not work but all things considered, he recommended that I give it a go. At this point, if I knew then what I know now, I would have told him to pull it. But, oh, not me. Save the tooth, I said, gazing into his big blue beautiful eyes.

For such a good looking dentist, his staff was not much to look at. So, when I visited him a second time to confirm that one of the roots had a fracture, I wondered why he didn’t fill his office with terribly attractive assistants. One of my random thoughts while sitting in the chair. Then he hurt me taking X-rays. Somehow his attractiveness wasn’t so, well, attractive. Then I tried to tell him the story of my Australia dental experience and he showed no appreciation of my attention to details in foreign dental offices…like the TV monitors provided to the patient for the purpose of entertainment during whatever procedure the patient was undergoing. They could watch DVDs, TV programs. The only thing lacking, really, was warm booties and a cookie on your way out. But this dental specialist in San Luis, CA, wasn’t so interested. Regarding getting to the bottom of my root, he interrupted my story and never said, “And you were saying”. No. Dr. Blue Eyes was too cold.

But I digress. The tooth had to go. It was a fractured tooth, brought on my lack of blood supply, age, and in all probability…a bite on something hard. Dr. Blue Eyes offered to pull the tooth at no charge and begin the implant procedure on the same day. Before leaving the office, I booked an appointment.

In October I had purchased tickets to see Woody Allen’s New Orleans Jazz Band in San Francisco on December 28th. This came about because I in looking for the soundtrack to Midnight in Paris, Woody’s latest movie. The music was fabulous. The soundtrack was nowhere to be found. So, I decided to do some research on line and that’s how I discovered Conal Fowkes. He played with Woody’s band and his name was mentioned by another person on the internets. This person also mentioned that Conal had a website. http://www.davisfowkes.com/ and that’s where I learned about the concert in San Francisco. Conal and I emailed back and forth and became fast friends (my interpretation as a star-struck blogger).

But I digress. I talked my cousin, Susie, into going to the concert too and as part of the deal, Ray and I would stay at her place in Sunnyvale. Well, my cousin does not suffer fools gladly. And she is a specialist around healthcare and regulatory issues, a job she retired from at Kaiser. When I mentioned the implant was projected to cost $5,000, she became agitated that dentists can continue to rip off people with bad teeth. And that got me to thinking that she had a very good point. So, in the middle of the night I awoke with an idea that perhaps teaching dental schools might have a program. And Susie came up with the exact same idea overnight. We are genetically very close to one another, my dad being her mother’s brother. Upon returning home, I called the Univ. of San Francisco and secured an appointment for an initial visit to see if I qualified for the opportunity to save about $3000, their service costing a mere $1900. So, we’ll see. The saga continues. Oh, and I cancelled my appointment with Dr. Blue Eyes.

Laying and lying
I provide a reference for those that are curious about my grammar: http://grammar.quickanddirtytips.com/lay-versus-lie.aspx

Myself, I didn’t bother to proof my work with it. I just use whatever I feel like at the time. If Dylan can do that…so can I.

But back to the dentist’s chair. There I was with my bad tooth listening to my dentist tell me everything that could go wrong with the extraction. Fractured teeth are harder to pull. Complications can arise because he is performing dental surgery in the dirtyest place in my body…my mouth. OMG. That little talk catapulted me back to the time when I discovered my grandmother had most of her teeth extracted on the same day. And implants weren’t a option. It was false teeth or gums. (Must have inherited her bad genes in the teeth department.) So, the disclaimers having been recited, the chair went back and I found myself laying down…, mouth open and a needle about the size of the state of Montana approaching my gum. OMG. At this point my thought was to “just relax”, breathe deep, try to slow my pounding heart down. To no avail. My heart pounded with an intensity that made me worry. I mean, what if it stops? What if it speeds up? Then the numbness started enveloping my face, my tongue, my gum. No mamby-pamby shots here. Three shots. Ugh.

I regard those “instruments” they use in the dental office (any dental office) as bordering on neanderthal. They take on a particularly onerous look when approaching one’s mouth. It occurred to me as I lie there with my mouth opened wide that the instruments resembled picks, pliers, hammers and vices. No pretty pink handles. No handsome blue handles. These things looked way too industrial for my liking. Why don’t they design beautiful instruments? I could visualize these same instruments at Oil Changers or Jiffy Lube. It would make things a bit more comfortable for the patient. This is what I thought about as he grabbed my tooth and tried to wiggle it for the first time in probably 60 years. Nothing hurt really. The pressure that came to bear was another matter. Where did that root go? It felt like he was going to push through to the back of my head. Was he drilling to China? How long was that root? Opps. Roots? http://www.medical-tools.com/shop/american-extracting-forceps/

It occurred to me that the drill sounded like R2D2 was in my mouth. Then it sounded like a high pitch squeals. That combined with the sucking sound of the grey tube that hovered over the tooth, was not music to my ears. So…what I did was try to divert my thoughts to something else. Relax. Wiggle your foot I said to myself. Take a deep breath. Close your eyes. Quit flexing your muscles. Nothing was working. In and out the instruments went. What else could I distract myself with besides deep breathing and thoughts of relaxing that weren’t working the way I thought they might?

Well. As luck would have it, I did have one distraction. Golf. My dental appointment was at 3:00 p.m. At 8:37 a.m. I was teeing off at Morro Bay golf course from the red tees. And this was quite momentus. Match play is an annual tourney at our club. Additionally, our club has men and women members which I have enjoyed. Until today. Today my male opponent chose to play from the red tees. For those who don’t play golf, red tees are the closest tees to the hole. White tees are usually 50-100 yards farther away from the hole and traditionally men play from the white tees. But not today. My opponent chose to play from the red tees. (The picture at the top of this post illustrates Ray, playing from the white tees with the red tees in front of him.) So, what that meant is that it took the only advantage I had as woman player away from me. I cannot hit the ball as far. I was toast. Was his move legal? I guess so. Was it gentlemanly? Highly doubtful. Good sportsmanship? Not too sure about that. And may I add that he has a 13 handicap. He is a very good player. On many par 4 holes, he used a driver and a sand wedge to get on. It generally took me a driver, a fairway wood, and a wedge to get on. Game over. So to avoid the viewing of instrumentation entering and leaving my orifice, I tried to noodle through what had just happened on the golf course.

Last year a woman won the tourney. The men in the club were very upset about the outcome. She beat all men to secure that title. The men were sore. So perhaps it was just coincidence that the format of the tourney was changed this year so the players were grouped in ‘pods’ of four people each. Each four would play one another and one would emerge from the ‘pod’ as the winner and that winner would go on to face the other ‘pod’ winners. And oddly enough, Nancy (last years winner) and I were in the same ‘pod’. They said it was a blind draw. I wonder. Then Nancy lost her first match. I lost mine. Drill, baby, drill. Aspirate that tooth, or what’s left of it. Get rid of those women. Drill, baby, drill.

I ask you. It might be legal to pair a feather-weight boxer with a heavy-weight…but is it right? It might be legal to play a junior varsity player in a varsity game…but is it in the spirit of the game? While mulling this over, I wasn’t sure if the fuming was caused by my thoughts about the golf game or the drilling business. How should I regard this? In trying to figure it out I kept getting distracted by the pressure in my mouth. Would I ever be the same? Would my gum remain permanently numb after this (a possible complication, I was told). When could I eat? I mean, I’m all about eating. And my dentist was left handed. OMG. I never considered that when deciding who would pull this stubborn tooth. Are there special left handed dental tools? Did they come in colors? What was Ray doing? Walking the dog and wondering if I had died in the chair? He drove me to my appointment, dear man. What would I ever do without him? and now puppy Beau? Damn it anyway. I should have brushed more often. I wish I could view (as in watch) this procedure then I could verify that the chisel was not, in fact, going through my neck. Who knew roots were 10 feet long? And how can I manage not to gag? The instinct was there. Dual gagging. Gagging from the dental work. Gagging on the idea that the men were so upset with a woman winning last year that they would go to any lengths to see us defeated even if it meant taking away the only advantage we had…distance. Is this ultimately why women have not been successful breaking through that glass ceiling at work? Because these guys work together in subtle (there was rarely a congratulation forthcoming from any of them to last year’s woman champ) and not so subtle (teeing off from the red tees) ways, to ensure men stay on top. Collusion or colliding?

And then to cap (a dental term) it all off, the ex-president of the club described my lost to other members as my “being demolished” . Yes, I was beaten by a man 20 years my junior, playing from the red tees, and riding in his cart (I walked)…and further, the ex-prez told me the only reason Ray won his match is because he got lucky. What was all that about? And what is he talking about…”not grinding away too much bone because of the implant”. Aspirate please.

Oh, and stay tuned. I don’t think you’ve heard the end of the story…yet.

OMG. What a day.

Got up and after walking the Beau, starting a crossword puzzle, and having breakfast, it was off to the golf course. Morro Bay couldn’t have been prettier. Sunny. Calm. Fabulous. Walked the course and after a shaky start, ended up with a 91. Ray beat me by 1 stroke. Had a great time with our new friends, Hal and Diane.

After posting, we headed home and got things ready for dinner as Hal and Diane were coming to dinner. Oh, but I forgot to mention to two things. On the way out the door this a.m., I broke a ramekin that held Beau’s treats. And then as I attempted to get in the car, I hit my shin, peeled back the skin and dented my tibia. Nothing broken…but damn, it really, really hurt.

So, back to dinner. We prepared some appetizers, lit the fire, brought the chicken to room temp, had a glass of wine, took showers, and I tried to work the Sunday crossword puzzle. Then the door bell rang and we were off to the races. It was so warm we sat outside while Ray barbecued the chicken…an unbelievable day for January 8th.

After champagne, a bottle of shiraz, we sat down and had dinner with another bottle of Le Cuvier zinfandel. Chicken, beans, salad. That simple. That delicious.

Toward the end of the evening, I was telling a story, slammed my hand down, hit my spoon, which became a projectile and it hit me in the forehead. Ouch. What the hell just happened? I laughed till I cried. How the hell did I do that?

Then after Hal and Diane left, I ran to the kitchen to clean the kitchen. While doing my duty, I managed to knock over a champagne glass and broke it. Ray ordered me to sit down. I was a danger to society!!

My bio-rythemes were off today. Good thing I didn’t drive. Lord knows what would have happened.

So, one ramekin, one champagne glass, one knocked up leg and a bump on my forehead…all in one day.

OMG. Well, have to close now. Must get my beauty sleep and hopefully not hurt myself in the process. And Ray? He’s in the kitchen doing the dishes. Love that guy.