Ramblings.

Yesterday I felt all Food Channel. I conjured up some chicken breast with a picata-esque recipe. I really had no recipe. The ingredients, in no particular order: chicken breast, fresh squeezed lemon juice, fresh sliced mushrooms, white wine vinegar, water, capers, salt, pepper, a little flour. More lemon juice. Found a yummy avocado dressing recipe on Pinterest and made it, too. It called for: avocado (2 small), 1/2 cup ff plain greek yogurt, 1/4 cup evoo, 2 toes garlic, 1 tsp hot sauce, salt, 2 tsp lemon juice (I used the juice of an en-tire lemon). OMG. I just want  you to know, it was all good. I cooked some brown rice and added a little black japonica rice in the pot. It was very yummy. Loooved the avocado dressing. Could eat it with a spoon. All of it. In one sitting. 

Yum.

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Had churchy things going on this morning. Then hit the store that has everything for a few groceries and some toothpaste. Stopped at the fruit stand for some peaches. Then came home starved. Ate lunch and have pretty much not felt like getting anything started that late in the day. I did wash the baseboards in the kitchen. That counts. Now I feel all "wow I really accomplished something". Heaven forbid a day go by with no productivity. Ha.

Mr. Macho came home. Drank a beer. Then I decided to not waste the left-over-from-vacation straw-beer-rita in the fridge. And added some of the frozen concoction left in the freezer from a previous spring/summer party. That all equals a loose tongue. I may come back and delete this entire post in the morning. Who knows? 

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While I was scarfing down some warmed up leftovers for lunch I dashed off a quick email to Mom and my eight siblings. Today is July 11. Or 7/11. It made me think of Dad. He was a man who loved playing with words. And he liked the sound of seven eleven. There were some corner mini markets by that name. Dad would say it so fast it sounded like "sem elem". So that is what I emailed to my sibs. Sem elem. I wrote "say it out loud". Only one sister responded with "what the frankfurter is that?" Well. She didn't actually say frankfurter. She just asked, "What does that mean?" I had to explain. Call me Lucy. I had some 'splaining to do. 

My Dad loved words. When I was little and we were at the dinner table he would say, "Passamaquoddy." Which meant pass the milk or butter.  He would then proceed to ask  if anyone knew where Passamaquoddy Bay was. If no one knew (or remembered) then we would have to go get the World Book Encyclopedia and look it up. 

Yes. I know. It is between the state of Maine and Canada. 

Dad. Sure miss you. 

Sem elem.