I didn't have a fricasseeing rabbit, nor the license, so I made do with chicken.
I had not made the classic chicken fricassee before. I did reduce the amount of liquids since I was cooking only a small batch of boneless thighs. It was delicious! Served over pasta, a deconstructed version of the best chicken noodle soup you've ever had.
Does that earn me my fricasseeing chicken license?
I had a number of projects (that sounds so much better than "a bunch of stuff") piled up on the bed in the sewing room.
Fifi chose to nest there and often Homer, her partner in crime as they say, would join her.
I tidied up before last week's annual termite inspection. I think she liked the cluttered bed better.
I am starting to lose count of the number of spreads that bed has carried. I was done with Thomas the Tank Engine, SpongeBob, and even Batman.
I got a lovely vintage pink chenille but it was too delicate to withstand the black catness. The white comforter with pink and green ribbons (matching the sham) was sturdy but easily stained. Finally I put my thin pink childhood blanket on top. That seems to be holding up well.
The queen was not amused by the disarray I made in extricating Homer from under the bed.
No wonder she got Homer to mutiny yesterday. I hope she's satisfied now that things are back together.
This is not the right cat. This one is so curious, he got right in the carrier, even though it wasn't meant for him. He also got on my lap when I was sitting on the toilet!
No, the carrier was for Homer, to take him for his monthly blood test. (He is doing very well, by the way, in remission.)
But that wily old SOB! I went to check his location this morning and he was curled up on a bed with Francine. Well, that's her private pink boudoir so I didn't want to disturb him until the last minute.
So when I went to get him, he was gone! Disappeared into thin air. And there was Francine looking very guilty and suspicious.
I swear, they plot these things together.
I deduced he was under the bed. I had to lift up the mattress and foundation to get him. Rowwwrrrrr!
That put both of us in a curmudgeonly mood. We are going to need treats when we get home.