Two Saturdays ago, I made a plan to do nothing. Well, at least nothing for the afternoon. A conscious choice, an early vote, and predisposition maybe, to be L-A-Z-Y. I hummed around all morning, cleaning, doing laundry, dishes, etc. The house was tidy, though far from perfect. I didn't care. It was enough work for one day. Besides, it was Week #1 for NCAA football. I watched football the entire afternoon. Yes, me, Caryn Stephenson, became a bona fide couch potato. It was so fun and relaxing, I decided I would plan that for the following Saturday as well.
As usual, I have to try to take a good thing and make it better. This time I succeeded! This past Saturday, I once again hummed around, cleaning, doing dishes, laundry, etc. Then, I had to stop short of my noontime deadline. In fact, I couldn't wait to stop cleaning. I had a plan. A plan involving chicken wings, which I have come to like down here in redneck-land. I changed my cleaning methods, from Mrs. Meyer's all-purpose cleaner (lemon verbena, of course) to a chef's knife and some serious chicken wing-hacking. I fried, YES, FRIED, those bad boys in light cornstarch (thanks, Cook's Illustrated), whipped up a homemade reduced-fat blue cheese dressing (had to save calories somewhere, and thanks Cook's Country), a bowl of hot sauce and copious amounts of celery and carrots (kids don't eat celery, I've found). I grabbed a Diet Coke (again, calories not allowing for my desired sweet tea) and headed for the couch. I sank in, quilt and pillow nearby, and there I stayed, virtually motionless, for several hours. I ate wings, carrots and celery till I could eat no more. Our kids decided wings were awesome and ate at least their fair share. Every time they talked too loud, I would say, in your room or silence, I can't hear my game. And it wasn't even the Gator game yet. (I hate those 8:00 games, I mean, I know I'm going to have to stay up till 11 or so. And after spending all day on the couch, I was exhausted! I have to ask, who on earth is setting these times? Don't they know I'm worn out from all the football before that? Humph.) And so I offer, dear reader, this lovely picture of the wings, in all their glory. And I request, dear reader, that you do not send me articles on the fat/calorie content of said wings. I only ate them, in all honesty, for the sake of honoring laziness in its purest form. You'll know where to find me this Saturday, the only question will be Nachos or Potato Skins?
As usual, I have to try to take a good thing and make it better. This time I succeeded! This past Saturday, I once again hummed around, cleaning, doing dishes, laundry, etc. Then, I had to stop short of my noontime deadline. In fact, I couldn't wait to stop cleaning. I had a plan. A plan involving chicken wings, which I have come to like down here in redneck-land. I changed my cleaning methods, from Mrs. Meyer's all-purpose cleaner (lemon verbena, of course) to a chef's knife and some serious chicken wing-hacking. I fried, YES, FRIED, those bad boys in light cornstarch (thanks, Cook's Illustrated), whipped up a homemade reduced-fat blue cheese dressing (had to save calories somewhere, and thanks Cook's Country), a bowl of hot sauce and copious amounts of celery and carrots (kids don't eat celery, I've found). I grabbed a Diet Coke (again, calories not allowing for my desired sweet tea) and headed for the couch. I sank in, quilt and pillow nearby, and there I stayed, virtually motionless, for several hours. I ate wings, carrots and celery till I could eat no more. Our kids decided wings were awesome and ate at least their fair share. Every time they talked too loud, I would say, in your room or silence, I can't hear my game. And it wasn't even the Gator game yet. (I hate those 8:00 games, I mean, I know I'm going to have to stay up till 11 or so. And after spending all day on the couch, I was exhausted! I have to ask, who on earth is setting these times? Don't they know I'm worn out from all the football before that? Humph.) And so I offer, dear reader, this lovely picture of the wings, in all their glory. And I request, dear reader, that you do not send me articles on the fat/calorie content of said wings. I only ate them, in all honesty, for the sake of honoring laziness in its purest form. You'll know where to find me this Saturday, the only question will be Nachos or Potato Skins?
I don't even like wings, but those look good.
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