This is Luna Bleu in a state of alarm on the bar. She's not supposed to be there, but who can be where they are supposed to be when someone is dying? She was busy rolling her eyes and thinking negative thoughts. Mostly about the fact we allow horrible things like running out of food to happen.
Jac is not quite thirteen, so consider him an early bloomer.
"There isn't any food in the house." "We're hungry." "Are you going to the store today?" "Argh...I'm so hungry..." And on and on and on.
In adult talk that translates to "Someone other than I ate all the cereal and it's so unfair we never have Pop Tarts like normal people."
Life is rough.
This morning was glorious. I slept in until 8:30, because Ryan kindly let out our little mutt before the sun came up. There was a thin layer of freshly fallen snow. I was enjoying a lovely cup of coffee made from beans a friend brought back from El Salvador. The light was streaming through the windows just as I like it to do. All was perfect.
Until the death dance began and I was reminded we don't have any food.
Not having food is a problem.
For a second, I thought maybe we could just go out for breakfast. (We never do that.) And then I did this thing. My thing begins with the fact I am not at all patient and I generally do not believe very many places have food good enough to wait on. Everyone goes out to breakfast on Saturdays which means I'd have to wait. Multiple times. Once just to get everyone together to get out of the house. Again, to get a table. Then for the server. Then for drinks. And on and on and on. I can't do it. The other part of my thing is I think in full pictures. At the end of that picture was the $50 check for whatever that "inexpensive" family-type restaurant would have served us. Scrambled eggs and toast, right?
So I said "I'll just make some scrambled eggs and toast." (While being assaulted with words reminding me we don't have any food in the house.)
And then Ryan did his thing. He's a simple guy in words. "We can have omelettes."
Please understand that if the offer for omelettes is there, I'm going to go with it. He's in charge of cooking them. Primarily, because we have a longstanding feud in this house over the best way to do it. I say skillet. He says griddle. We go with the griddle, because that means he'll be doing it.
And then, somehow, it turned into a feast. Keep in mind, we don't have any food in the house. In their defense, it is true we didn't have the right kind of potatoes for hash browns. Somehow, we worked it out.