On Timing

Happy Friday!

So far, my night has been spent on the phone with my maid of honor, J. I was multi-tasking! Roasting a chicken, smoking (bad girl. bad.) a cigarette, drinking wine, and not paying enough attention to the chicken-roasting recipe. It was Ms. Julia Childs', and while I am loathe to disrespect her ladyship by drinking and smoking and having psychologically significant conversations while loosely following her master recipe for a roasted chicken, it has been a nearly-perfect evening. And the chicken looks OK! Unfortunately, I underestimated the tiny potatoes I bought to serve with the chicken, and my timing is a complete failure. Luckily, my music-mad husband bought himself the commemorative edition of Paul's Boutique today, so he's been happily wallowing in Beastie Boys worship while I fucked around in our tiny kitchen. Dear (nonexistant) reader, I do hate to flaunt it, but holy shit is my life tits.*
Anyway, the phone call's over, the chicken's out of the oven (oh my, I cooked it in a cast iron skillet after months of pining for a roasting pan. Got the pan, used it once, grasped the basics of roasting meat and haven't looked back--tried everything else for roasting and so far nothing has really let me down. Granted, I haven't eaten more than a bite of chicken, but I have nearly a bottle's worth of red wine in me, inspiring much poultry-related confidence.) Oh--but the potatoes are still quite raw. And the asparagus: not even in the oven yet. If timing is everything, I have nothing. But I would have to take issue with anyone who made such a claim. 'Cause I've got a tits husband, an outrageously insightful best friend, a dog who deserves to be famous, and two whole days to enjoy myself before anybody has to go back to work.
Happy weekend! Make it matter...

*For some time, I've been trying to incorporate "tits" into my personal lexicon: does calling something tits not say it all? I feel like it celebrates everything, from Betty Page to fucking Judith Butler. Who among us does not love tits? Unfortunately, it is really not OK to use this turn of phrase in everyday life (my everyday life, anyway), so it is relegated to my unread blog. Sigh.