Instead of going on and on about what a pitiful excuse I am for a domestic goddess I thought I’d share a recipe that Studly Doright and I really like. If that isn’t progress, I don’t know what is.
FIVE INGREDIENT CROCKPOT RANCH CHICKEN
1 boneless, skinless chicken breast per person
1 pkg. dry Ranch dressing
1 small potato per person
1 sweet onion
1 frozen small corn on the cob per person
–Wash potatoes and slice
–Create foil packets and put potatoes and some of the onion in one for each person along with a pat of butter and some of the Ranch dressing.
–Wrap individual corn on the cob in foil packets along with a pat of butter and a bit of Ranch.
–Place chicken in crockpot.
–Pour a half cup of water, along with some butter, Ranch dressing, and onion over the chicken.
–Place veggie packets on top.
–Cook on high for 4 hours.
No kidding, this is one of the best, easiest meals out there. One can substitute kale for the corn packets for a healthier option, and obviously butter needn’t go into every ingredient, but oh my! It’s so good.
Need a laugh? You must read this bit of fun from mikesteeden.wordpress.com.
Jack the Crow did gangster rapping,
up high in his oak tree,
Chantal the Gull sung power ballads,
at the seaside, on the quay
Peter Sparrow tweeted,
in places far and wide,
just where the fancy took him,
with no bird at his side
Then an impresario,
had a good idea,
let’s have a singing contest,
for the birds that all live here
Seduced by fame and fortune,
and some celebrity,
many birds did enter,
this singing fest for free
The Woodpecker was supported,
by her very small Blue Tits,
a Blackbird and a Jenny Wren,
Both sung some Beatles hits
Each week the birds all voted off,
the ones they didn’t like,
first gone was a Wood Pigeon,
“Get off son, on your bike”
The next loser was a Budgie,
followed by a Jay,
things were hotting up now,
Birds of Britain had their say
Then the grand finale,
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walked into the bedroom
stopped beside the dresser
something nagged inside my head
what was it i was there for?
left the room, went down the hall
thinking all the way
whatever might i have needed
in the middle of the day?
glasses i had on my nose
sandals on my feet
ipod was in my left hand
cranking a steady beat.
passed the mirror in the hall
oh, now my lapse was clear!
i’m naked as a jaybird
and should cover my derrierre.
Almost every person I know has had a close encounter with a celebrity. Studly Doright once met Patrick Swayze. According to Studly, Mr. Swayze was short of stature. I think Studly was trying to negate the star’s charms.
I almost met Jamie Fox in a back hallway of Caesar’s Palace, but my friends hustled me away before I did something embarrassing.
Other than that my biggest celebrity encounter was the time Dallas Cowboy greats Walt Garrison and Bob Lilly flew into Floydada, Texas, to campaign for some forgettable politician.
The men autographed a football for me. I was 12 at the time and promised to never let that football out of my sight. Somehow my younger brothers found it and left it outside where the autographs faded to nothing.
I also met the Cowsills family rock group at a restaurant in Levelland, Texas. You may laugh, but that was a big deal to me. My friend, LA should have hustled me away before I embarrassed myself. I did end up with autographs from John and Barry (eeeee!) as well as two buttons and and a nickel in exchange for my green ink pen. That Barry (may he rest in peace) was a shrewd horse trader.
What brought up this topic today? I’m sitting in the outside dining area of Gordo’s Restaurant (where one can get lei’d every Friday night) certain that US representative Gwen Graham is seated a table away from me. I really wish a friend was here to hustle me away. “Hey Gwen! I voted for you!”
From one of my favorite bloggers. Read more at shamingoftheshrew.wordpress.com
Yellow winged fairy
perched gently on buttercups
Loveliness knows not
the emotions it evokes
like butterfly wings.
We watched a swallowtail yesterday evening. It was engaged in a frolic we could not understand, flirting with drops of water remaining after a thunderstorm.
The darned thing was lovely in every sense of the word–brilliantly yellow, graced with wispy wings edged in black, graceful in flight–yet completely oblivious to our admiration, and unaware of its own beauty.
Don’t forget, we are all beautiful. You are beautiful.