fat of the land
Traditionally our church has held a pancake supper every Mardi Gras or, as we Anglicans call it, Shrove Tuesday. For some reason this year it didn't come off, or if it did nobody told us about it. So instead we had a little do here at home with a couple of friends. After six pancakes and three strips of bacon, though, I wasn't quite full, and neither was Alan. And you can't have guests going hungry, especially when it's your religious duty to fatten up! Pancakes were done out, so I mixed up some biscuits and scrambled eggs and we made another half-dozen strips of bacon for bacon and egg sandwiches. Then, in a stroke of genius, Alan came up with the idea of making gravy from the bacon fat. It was delicious poured over the sandwiches. My blood feels clotted with grease.
We're going to bed now instead of waiting up for the election coverage, because we can't stand to witness another crushing blow to our hopes and dreams. Two in three days is two too many. America, where is your hope?! Your optimism?! Maybe California will turn things around, but we won't know because we'll be asleep. I guess if you want change you have to make it yourself. Just like with bacon gravy!