What's Cooking

My Step Mom was my age when she married my Dad, who at the time was 14 years her senior, twice divorced and had three daughters. It pretty much gave me free reign to bring home anyone I wanted henceforth.

In any case, because she was a fairly young career woman when they married, my Step Mom could run an entire office, but there were certain domestic chores at which she wasn't very adept, namely cooking.

One time, she made a pot of chicken and dumplings. I say "dumplings," but really, they were gigantic dough balls that swelled and rose above the pot, bubbling over so much they pushed the lid off. The dumplings actually gurgled and hissed as they grew, releasing gasses and fumes from the reaction.

We tried to gag down the floury pillows, but finally my Dad just threw the leftovers over the ravine behind our house, because, when you live in Ohio, you throw garbage into the woods to save paying for the trash service.

The next day, there was a raccoon lying on our front walk, bloated and squishy, with a tell-tale crust of dough framing its dirty, little mouth. It had eaten the "dumplings," and its insides exploded.

Do I have a point? No. Well, kind of.

I am the raccoon, and online dating is the dumpling that's going to kill me. But I hope to die satisfied and full, my pretties.

I did meet one I like. A lot. His heart is tender, though, and he's not "looking for anything." He also might be moving away--perfect for a nurturing, commitment phobe, gypsy like myself! I also think he's a vegetarian, though he's never said so. However, I'm taking a cue from Hey Pretty, and I'm going to keep this one to myself for now.

But, you can bet your bippy that if he makes my insides explode, you'll hear all about it.

How have your allergies been, my pretties? I hear that every seven years, your body changes its chemical makeup, so you may notice that your allergies weren't as bad as they were last year.