Deep Fried Pork Rinds

Oh thank God my mom doesn’t have to go buy these anymore:

Instead, if she had a computer, or knew how to use the internet, she could click on this link and make them herself. And instead of those nasty preservative filled pork rinds, she can get hers freshly made at home like these:

Yesterday I woke up on the wrong side of the world. I spent all of Tuesday writing thank you notes. I am continuing to do so. I will be doing so tonight as Boo and all his little buddies converge on our house for beer brats and old school Tron. Thank heaven we have that handy dandy DVR/VHS duo. The one that makes low level groans and moans and sometimes makes me feel like we have a ghost in our house. I do not know what a Tron is, but in my mind it looks like a transformer and when DTB and ArchitectA get here tonight I picture this debonaire trio turning into pimple faced, braces clad, snorting nerds geeking out about somthing like a transformer. I’ll probably get all 200 notes written with ease in an attempt to not have to watch one minute of this testosterone empowering movie.

Back to yesterday. Awaken, wrong side of the world. Email from favorite family I interviewed with explaining they were going to keep searching for the perfect nanny for their family. Deep feeling of rejection ensues. I start compulsively applying to all monster and craigslist part time jobs. Including a suggested one for a Spiritual After-school Counselor at a Jewish school in Brookline, I am pretty sure I’ll get an email any minute about that one. I shake it off with a shower which for some sick reason got cold WAY faster than it’s already too fast pace and then rush out to my recently very expensively repaired car with wet hair to take CoCo to school so that she doesn’t die on black ice, only to find it totally and completely dead. Boo proceeded to be totall unreachable. I start panicking because I have another interview with another family that afternoon. Did I mention the freezing rain? Well I did now. Then Boo says to ring my landlords door and ask him if we can use his magic jumper. This is apparently a machine which prevents having to wave people down in the street, ask them if they have jumper cables because yours are in your husbands car twenty minutes away in the parking garage at his office which is holding him captive, only to find they don’t speak English, have never heard of jumper cables or are driving a stolen car and don’t feel comfortable stopping at a house so close to the Brighton Police Dept. Needless to say I was thrilled about the magic machine. So eventually Mr K comes back and tell me that he does not have the magic machine it’s in his son’s car who will be home at 11:30 p.m. Mmmm, thanks magic machine. I’ll go back to freezing rain flagging. I call the family I’m interviewing with. She suggests I take a walk to the closest gas station (at least a mile in any direction) and see if they have a magic machine. I tell her there is not one close, she suggests a cab. Obviously I am going to need to make this interview.

Thankfully, worried about my emotional stability Boo came home and jumped the car. Both of us thankful that it was just the battery and nothing that would return in to the money pit, AKA anonymous and really terrific Auto Repair place that was the recipient of a lot of our money this month. Then, to charge the battery, Boo took me to McD’s for a DC.

I made it to my interview. I will refrain from commenting on it.

Came home, cooked a terrific butter chicken recipe. I know everyone loved the Pioneer Woman’s but I did not love it as much. I thought it was delicious. I overdid it on the honey, but nothing a few very non-traditional ingredients couldn’t almost totally repair. We did it with sweet potatoes. Added a fantastic flavor. We’re trying to ease back into our uber healthy diet. Not with the beer brats tonight, but with the cost effectiveness of using the remaining brats from AL&UM’s party.

Sweet Boo, at dinner, he said, “I am thankful such a hard day could end with such a delicious meal.” I love that man. He watched basketball while I continued to search the internet fearlessly and endlessly for job, encouraging me not to submit an application to a Craigslist post by “freckleface75” for a personal assistant. Hmmm. Wonder why?

So, back to thank you notes and part-time job searches. Maybe some pork rind making too. Sick. You guys know me better than that.

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