I am so happy my blog is back up. Anyone else see the White Screen O’ Death? No redesign here, no overhauls. And no clue what happened, really. Eh.

I called Daniel to fix my biznaz and he was in a car in Northern Illinois, off to shoot guns with his Maw. That guy, honestly.

1. “I Love to Hear You All Groaning In the Morning”

Kickboxing is going very, very well. I’ve finally turned the corner on soreness and exhaustion, and am getting stronger. It is easier already to do simple things, like carry heavy objects. I feel myself swinging out of bed now, propelled by my new crunchy abs. My neighbor asked what I’ll be able to do when I’m done with my program.

“Break boards with your hand?” he said.

“I’ll be able to pick up cars. And throw them,” I replied. He looked impressed.

Our next weigh-in’s tomorrow. I don’t have too far to go, but it will be nice to tone up. I suspect my weight has gone up (muscle) and my body fat’s gone down. And the bagwork…ah, the bagwork. Due to the power of my overactive imagination, my enemies have received many broken noses.

2. Franny Comes Back From Frenchieport

So, Franny came back, did I tell you? I have been wiped out by Ms. Princess Grumpypants and her special jetlagged issues. I get a jetlagged kid and no traveling myself. Boo!

Her primary memories of France are:

1. Her stepmom got them lost in the mountains somewhere, but there were sheep and the view was nice.
2. Lots of walking.
3. She ate snails, which she liked.

Since she’s been back she’s been, I don’t know. Changed somehow.

Figure 1: Franny helps herself, at her insistence, to a “Gravy Shooter.”

Figure 2: Straight, but with a chaser.

3. In other culinary news, I was dying for poached pears the other night but did not have any wine or brandy. But it’s a pretty sure bet that we at Rancho Asshole always have vodka. In Soviet Russia, pears poach you.

Mama SJ’s Wodka Pears

In 15 minutes, BAM, you have a warm and gooey sugar high.

2 pears, perfectly ripe, peeled, halved, and cored
3 tbsps butter
1/2 cup sugar of your choosing (brown, raw, white death)
1 tsp cinnamon
1/2 cup Wodka

Melt the stupid amounts of butter in an already-hot heavy skillet (medium heat). Sprinkle sugar and cinnamon over the melted butter and give it a stir to moisten and make a sauce. Lick spoon. Mmmm. Consider just drinking the liquid and chucking the pears out.

But no!

The sauce should be lightly simmering. Lay the pears, flat side down, on top of the sauce. Pour vodka around pears and stir sauce again. Gently spoon sauce over the pears. Bathe the pears. Make the pears feel special. Continue stirring and bathing until the sauce is browning/caramelizing (2-3 minutes).

Be-lid the pears and let them simmer in the steamy environment for about three minutes. Remove from heat. Using a spatula, gently remove the pears from the skillet and place in bowls, core side up. Pour remaining caramel sauce over pears in serving bowls. Hell, yes, YUM.

Endure alternating looks of gratitude and resentment from Companion, who is amazed by the deliciousness, but dreading having yet more dishes to wash. Serves 1-4, depending on the degree and severity of your PMS.

4. Do Not Ask For Whom the Mouse Clicks

The directors of Franny’s school are finally calling in their favors. As you may recall, I agreed to do a certain amount of work for them this year to make up for the tuition discount. My first task was to design an ad to go in certain local publications. They were pleased with the ad overall, but were unhappy with the photo, which we had snapped that morning using kids pulled out of their classrooms.

“Can you get rid of that car behind the kids?”

“SURE!” I said. I always say “sure,” even if I have no clue. I said this when I was fifteen and my friend’s mom asked me if I could pump gas, since her newly-licensed daughter didn’t know how. SURE I can pump gas. I had watched my stepfather do it a million times, and how hard could it be if he could do it? SURE I can cut your hair, drunk. WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? I do beer bongs ALL THE TIME. (That one did not go so well.)

I have always been the type of person who figures it out as I go along. I’d say it’s a strength AND a flaw all at the same time. Look at me, I’m still a mystery to you.

VOILA: I MADE A BUSH GROW IN THE STREET! At you know, three-by-five size and in greyscale, this is gonna look great. Trust me. I’m an EXPERT.

They were very pleased.

5. Strudelvision!

Strudel informs us of the sounds animals make, including sounds made by Strudel-animals.

This is it for You Tube. I’ve heard you can embed Google video and there is no SOUND SYNC problems. Le SIGH.

The end! How’s your week going?