Mum had to go to work yesterday which meant it was my turn to cook. Feeling miserable meant that actually I couldn't really summon up the effort, also since it is after all January frugal cooking is the name of the day, as in actually using up the stuff that no one wants to eat that is laying around in the bottom of the freezer. This left me with the worlds biggest turkey leg....
It was so huge that it would not fit in the slow cooker even though I attempted to fit this in, in a number of different ways. There may have been a small and very pathetic moment in which I lay on the kitchen floor with the turkey leg in my hand sobbing about the damn unfairness of it all. (I have not drawn this on the basis there is only so much humiliation that I am willing to own up to)
After one of my many recent pity party's I decided I was damned if I was going to be beaten by a turkey leg, so I devised a number of ways to fit said turkey leg in slow cooker..
this included but is not limited to, jumping up and down on it, throwing it out of the window, taking a blow torch to it and the more realistic poking it with a fork hoping it would get annoyed by the constant poking and change it's shape. Didn't happen
Hubby decided to intervene, I suspect this was in part because crying over a turkey leg and smacking it against random walls and cussing a lot is the equivalent of crying over spilled milk, only with a higher risk of salmonella poisoning. Mum who has clearly taken notes on my frustrations over the years stayed out of it but I could still here her chuckling from the front front room and I wasn't ready for turkey hacking to be funny right then.
Now I was slightly relieved to discover that it wasn't my puny pathetic self that couldn't deal with a damn turkey leg as after some thought he went and raided the contents of his tool box. The hammer technique was not in all a big success unless you were the cat who got a random bit of turkey skin hurled across the kitchen at him. Also I had to stop hubby as the kitchen sink looked in danger of falling through. This is when he came up with the highly logical rusty saw technique; never mind the salmonella I was originally worried about we are all going to die of rust poisoning. He was one step away from putting his foot on the actual turkey leg and adding to its now grimy state before I pointed out that clearly this plan wasn't going to work either. He got a bit snotty at this point and asked what exactly I thought I was going to achieve by poking it with a fork. He got the crossed arms and furrowed brow answer.
Finally he attacked that sucker with a Stanley knife, which I will give him showed his commitment and dedication to turkey leg abuse as he sliced off layer by layer until we could cram the lid shut on the damn thing. There were several moments when I was worried that he would lose a finger and we would have to go to yet another a & e department!
Also demonstrated in photo's ^^^^ because it was a serious achievement!
In other news girl child has decided to embrace the world of being a girl and decided to start sleeping in rollers, in hindsight I should have warned her about the crazy afro gene that appears to run in our family and I probably should have got mum to explain about how one wears rollers; I say mum because this is exactly the kind of thing I avoid since the whole hairbrush stuck in my head disaster. Lets just say that I didn't hear the actual screams of dismay in the morning when she tried to remove them in time for school but I did witness the evidence and loss of hair in the bathroom when I finally made it out of bed.
Friend invited me to her house at the weekend and I really didn't want to go, I kind of wanted to hide under the duvet and wallow in my own self pity but she employed two tactics. The "lets craft and touch all our papers and make envelopes" approach and the The "if I don't go she would make me feel bad about it for a year and probably beat me" approach. (In fairness she didn't apply the second approach it's just how I imagined it in my head) Both worked plus she's the kind of friend who doesn't attempt to cheer me up and is happy for me to wallow all over her sofa.
Turns out after a whole evening of crafting, that we are not very good at card making, what we are good at is cutting lots of bits of paper into different sizes and shapes. This had us in hysteria at 1am in the morning when there were bits of paper all over the place but no actual successful crafting as it were had actually taken place. Don't get me wrong we watched a heck of a lot of tutorials on how to make beautiful cards and then we tried to recreate these "easy" and "fun" to do cards. When I discovered that this whole thing was a complete farce and turned out to be secret maths and secret origami I was more than a bit miffed...
Now my friend who talks almost as much as I do and has a generalized but logical hatred of all of humanity, people and the wider community decides that it's bed time. I'm all up for that so I'm snuggled up in bed when she decides to do what I can only describe as an impression of me. There I am all drowsy and snugly when she decides now is the perfect time for a 2 hour chat, like we didn't just spend the entire night talking and crafting (or anti crafting) and having fun.. NOW she wants to have a chat. (I finally know now what hubby has been banging on about all these years) I think its interesting to work out what goes through a persons mind when they are all relaxed and talking bed shit at you when your trying to sleep. Her topics of conversation were diverse to say the least but my favorite topic was when she got round to the subject of her bedroom.
Her: "What do you think of this colour?" (please note that I realized this was rhetorical because she doesn't actually care what other people think once she has made her mind up)
Me: "Well it's grey, you know how I feel about grey"
Her: "yes but what do you think about it?"
Me: (trying to think of what the answer she is looking for) "it's grey innit"
Her: "Don't you think it's romantic..."
Me: "Well it kind of reminds me of institutions"
Her: (affronted) "Institution? you think my bedroom is like an institution?"
Me: "well I'm just saying I've been in mental health facilities and prisons with the same kind of colour"
Her: SILENCE
Me: "Well you asked"
Her: "mmm maybe it could be seen as institutionalized but that wasn't what I was going for"
Me: "you know what would be cool?"
Her: What?
Me: "A bomb shelter, we could use it as a craft room it would be epic"
Her: "but we couldn't smoke in there"
Me: "yer but it'd be cool"
Her: "bomb shelters are grey you know"
Me "ERMERGERD that's what colour this room is... bomb shelter grey"
Her: "No it's romantic you know like those films.. you know film noir and all that, with the lace patterns, I thought it would be girly"
Me: *snorts* "hang on you wanted a romantic girly room and you decided not only to paint it bomb shelter grey with no lace or anything and then you put that picture up over there (indicates black and white picture with a bright red umbrella) I think you went past romantic film noir movies and went straight to Schindler's List Grey" (Insert inappropriate laughter)
Her: "Well I think its romantic...." she then tailed off on her remaining two hour discussion most of which I hazed out...
The following morning we spent the whole day cutting up more paper and making prettys:
In other news as much as I would like to crawl under a rock and hibernate for the rest of the evening I am not allowed since boy child has gone to the young voices concert (yes he had two showers this morning!) in Birmingham to sing with Stacy Solomon (very proud... or well jel). He is due back at 10.30 so I have to stay up to pick him up... He left this morning in a white t-shirt for the concert.... 50p says it is anything but white when I collect him!
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