I guess the GG is a bit tired of my kind of roly poly pell mell approach to menu planning these last months years. Especially the days when I don’t decide what to cook for dinner until I get home from work and then I have to go over the the Plum Market to get ingredients and then I am trying to write my blahg (I know…) and then… … …

And so many Thursdays, I cop out by serving breakfast for dinner. Not that we don’t like breakfast for dinner but then he takes Fridays off and walks downtown to the Fleetwood for hippie hash or whatever and so it’s breakfast twice in something like twelve hours for him and I can understand how that’s a little much. So I got this text message today saying something like, “Go out to eat tonight?” and I had to agree. After a bit of negotiation, we agreed on Knight’s. It’s our neighborhood pub / steakhouse. We can walk there. The food is good, the ‘hattans knock you on your butt. We can walk there…

It was the right decision. When I got home today, because I wasn’t doing the kitchen dance, I actually had time to sort the clean laundry I’ve been chasing for three days, recycle / shred a bunch of papers and catalogs and things that have been on the dining table all week, do a cursory refrigerator cleanout and make a list of things to do this weekend, one of which is “plan menus!”, i.e., I got the hint. Anyway, whew! I needed to eat out tonight! Plus I boxed half my salmon dinner for lunch tomorrow!

So we got to Knight’s and the GG started telling me this long fantabulous story about how Canada wanted to BUY the yooperland and our wondrous not-my-dad’s-GOP gubner was actually entertaining the idea. You know, the yoopers all talk like Canucks so they should be Canucks, yada yada yada. I started out feeling a bit incredulous but just when I started thinking of some more or less reasonable questions to ask, I realized I had been had. On what date did you read this story? Oh, it must’ve been April 1st. Yeah.

Somehow from there I got onto a loverly story about my teenage life in the hardland of the winter yooperland, particularly a visit to a friend’s house in the “ghetto”. (Er, not that my childhood house was anything special because it certainly was *not*!) But I’ll save that story for a day when I can do it justice. It’s too much for me tonight.

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