Today . . . back on the mean streets, as my friend put it, lookin' for Mr. Meatman. I drove right past again, somehow, had to turn around and try over. This time I was GOING to find this butcher joint if I had to park my car and walk blocks and knock on doors. Well, I found it and you want to know what it said under the sign? FOR LEASE. That's right, Mr. Meatman has walked, his meat in tow, he's history. I waited too long and now I guess I'll wait forever. The funny thing is that there was a huge sign out by the street, MR. MEATMAN. You couldn't miss it unless you were KEM. But I was so busy looking at the buildings for giant yellow letters that bragged, MEAT, CHICKEN, PORK, OSTRICH, GIRAFFE and KANGAROO, that I totally missed the road sigh. I mean, that's all I ever saw, the yellow meats. Why does this not surprise me? Oh . . . the big yellow meat words had been removed from the front of the building. THAT, my dear blogger friends, is why over an hour of my life has been eternally wasted.

This place sold a list a mile long of exotic meats, which, frankly, is a huge turn off for me. Meat, in my book, is beef and pork. I can't eat an antelope, antelope are supposed to play on the range and never hear a discouraging word. They are supposed to roam with the buffalo and be happy all the day long. And moose? What would my sister say about that?? She was totally in love with Mr. Moose from Captain Kangaroo (even though she pictured the Devil to exactly resemble Mr. Moose). What would the Captain say about all this? HUH?? I'm telling you, if you've ever heard of an animal or reptile, it was on the list at Mr. Meatman, for your dining pleasure. Maybe I'm glad it's closed. I called the phone number to be sure and it was disconnected. I called the number for leasing and asked, Wherever did Mr. Meatman go? The lady said, Beats me, they just moved out. A happy day for moose, buffalo and antelope everywhere, is all I can say.

So, we never had Julia Child's pot roast for dinner. We didn't even have little temper fits (what with all the animals being saved). We had little steaks instead, steaks where they didn't stuff the cows with antibiotics and hormones first, bought from the regular grocery store. Honestly, my journey to track down an organic pot roast was a textbook case of DIMINISHING RETURNS.

All you working women out there, How do you do it? Fixing dinner is my main occupation. Don't get mad at me or give me a badge that shouts, INCOMPETENT. It's just the way I'm wired.

Oh my, my head is freezing, last night and tonight. All the heat is going out my ears and off the top of my head. I need to go get my wonderful new hat that my friend made me. She made people hats for Christmas. How did she do that? She teaches music classes in a Christian school and is an elite, competitive runner, so she trains like crazy every day. It's nothing for her to get up on a Sunday morning and run to Dunedin and back before church. You may not be impressed until you hear that Dunedin is easily a 20 mile run. Now you are impressed because you just heard it. Then she might play her oboe in church or a big long horn for the call to worship. She's the sweetest thing in the whole wide world and she skips in church because she is so happy. She's funny, too. Once the pastor asked her to come up front and he quizzed her about running the Boston Marathon. He asked, How cold was it up there? She answered, Cold. He asked, How many people ran the race? Lots. It was so cute, she is what I call pure joy and it's so infectious. Anyway, I guess, on top of being engaged, she has time to make adorable hats because she is only 25. She told me, I thought you would look really good in this hat. And by golly, if I don't. It's a big improvement . . . somehow.

So, back to my dinner (no wonder I talk about dinner so much, it's my main occupation, see above). At the table I said to my stepson, See these stewed apples?, they are Wizard Chopped. See these mashed potatoes? They are Wizard Chopped, too. That's right, I went wild tonight and decided to check out Chop Wizard for everything, and I enjoyed great success, minus slicing my finger on the blades. Lately, I burn or cut myself every time I'm in the kitchen. What is the meaning of this? Where is my mind? Why do I lose my concentration? At any rate, Chop Wizard is magnificent and I think Chop Wizard should start paying me for advertising it so whole heartedly . . . to all three of you.

Okay, I still have some stories I need to write, about New Year's Eve, my Bible-Reading-In-a-Year and others. I even have a stack of papers I've jotted story ideas on, paper strays, they are sitting here on the desk, nice 'n sloppy, making me look like I have something important to say. Mike is always going, So, when are you going to clean up this mess? P-U-H-L-E-A-S-E . . . do not disturb the genius at work. Okay, so whatever. In case you haven't noticed, I like to make fun of myself.

I'm on the verge of calling the new sinus doctor back and inquiring, Is it okay if I am blowing blood out of my nose? I hope that's okay. Surely it's the endless cold weather and heating the house combination, don't ya think? My delicate sinuses don't take to it, they rebel. Not to mention my appetite. If this cold snap doesn't snap soon, I'm gonna snap right out of my jeans. We Floridians are at a total loss to explain or cope with the ravages of prolonged cold weather, and not just a little cold, but regular, honest-to-goodness up north cold (well, not quite, but close). This bleeding has been going on for a few days. Look, as long as I can breathe, I guess I can handle a little blood, right? And I'll bet someone reading this is thinking, A-ha!, so this is the problem, her brains are doing a slow bleed. Well, again, whatever . . . I have an eerie feeling that my sinuses are gonna get me in the end.

On this exquisite note, see ya tomorry,
KEM