And whaddaya know? I’ve got more pictures. Sorry there hasn’t been much time or energy for commentary here, but that’ll change soon enough. We’re returning to our palatial estate in Ringwood this afternoon, where we’ll sift through a mountain of mail, get reacquainted with our Tivo, and likely avoid all pork for a month.
As always, click on the image below to see the rest of the group.
A few photos taken on a gray day here in Louisiana.
As reported yesterday on VM, we made it to Des Allemands safe and sound. The flight was bumpy, but similar enough to my morning commute that I was able to nap on-and-off throughout. I knew teaching myself to doze on public transportation was going to pay off, somehow!
Pops picked up catfish po-boys for lunch and made a huge pot of chicken-andouille gumbo for dinner (or for dinner and supper, I guess, now that I’m back). Yum! Can’t wait to see what today brings. (I’ve already requested oyster dressing for Christmas dinner, so there’s that to look forward to.) He got a couple of calls yesterday from people asking for recipes; you can see where the cooking-obsessed gene comes from.
Mason’s pre-school Christmas spectacular-spectacular was a hoot last night. The kids were cute and sang their hearts out to the secular Christmas standards and looked around quizzically during the Christian ones, which seemed odd for a church-run school, but hey: No one’s asked for my input on the curriculum. I’ll post pictures later, once we download and see if anything is usable. Sadly, I couldn’t manage to get a picture of The Most Egregious Christmas Sweater in existence, but […]
Justin Timberlake has a suggestion (not parent- or MIL-safe). Yeah, I know, but it’s been on continuous feed all week at work, so I wanted to share with the two of you who haven’t seen it already. You can thank me by signing my petition to nominate Justin for a permanent SNL guest-host spot.
Damned shame he didn’t win an Emmy for his work on The Barry Gibb Talk Show.
I have mixed feelings about Rachael Ray.
The YUM-Os, the sammies, the sartorial missteps*, the hands — argh, the hands! — make my insides shrivel. And I’m not alone: She has whole communities devoted to her destruction and no shortage of independent bashers. Testify.
While I understand where they’re coming from, I figure you don’t have to watch her if you don’t want to. And I hate to admit it, but some small part of me definitely wants to. 30 Minute Meals is great treadmill viewing; I watch transfixed, Ignatius Reilly-like, waiting for the next abomination to flicker across the screen, igniting my wrath and increasing my stamina. A RR marathon, you say? Sign me up for the next Ironman Competition!
Despite the haters, RR’s popularity has skyrocketed lately. Her empire has expanded into the daytime talk show arena, a new burger joint in NYC, and the branding of everything 30-minute easy from olive oil to cookware. How is this possible? We’re talking red state/blue state-level differences here, so it’s tough to see the other point of view, but this is where I have […]