*5 o'clock whistle.

Re-entry from vacation is a sucker punch.

Here, have a gelatinous cocktail!

Slog on, people. There are plenty more work hours to bank, unhappy lessons to learn, and yards to mow this week.

But there are also Popsicles in my freezer and coupons in my mailbox, so I figure it all balances out.

Suck on it, Monday!

*pure idiocy.

No wonder a certain segment of the population doesn't believe in evolution.

*insult to intelligence.

"How many girls can do that?" you ask, Jillian Barberie?

Well, if you mean how many girls can manage to simultaneously pull off imperious and shallow, reading every line as though it's interrogatory while wearing lingerie you're trying to pass as a shirt, I'd say not very many.

If you mean how many girls can catch a football someone lobs at them from just off camera, I'd say all of the ones with arms.

*easy bake.

Today's recipe is brought to you by tequila.

Ingredients:

1 to 2 heads broccoli
8 hours work frustration
1 pound orzo, cooked according to package directions
3 minutes vending-machine lunch
1.5 cups shredded mozzarella cheese
Pinch of attention deficit
1.5 cups shredded cheddar cheese
2 teaspoons dangerous recipe hunting on iPhone whilst driving
1 (10.75-ounce) can cream of mushroom soup

Step 1: Chop broccoli.

Step 2: Examine broccoli more closely. Wonder why something that tastes so good smells so bad.



Step 3: Stack cheeses, preferably in a transparent container for easy admiration. Smack own hand to deter snacking.



Step 4: Stop to gawk at the cognitive dissonance that is Michael Jackson's memorial service. Ponder the crazy/touching, baffling/fitting, manic/sad spectacle. Pour more wine.

Step 5: Open can of cream of mushroom soup. Pat self on back for culinary prowess.



Step 6: Stir together soup, broccoli, cheeses, and pasta in a far-too-large casserole dish. Have passing thought that inappropriate size might affect outcome, but get distracted stopping dog from terrorizing cat.



Step 7: Cover (casserole dish, not cat) and bake at 350. For ... some ... time. NOTE: Do not place dish in oven if oven has had time to preheat. Do not use timer, or in any other way attempt to control how long dish will be in oven.



Step 8: Eat. Wonder why it's too dry. Assume the only way to find answer to said question is to consume three servings.

Fin.

This recipe courtesy of an on-the-road Google search that led to Working Girl Cooks! All apologies to Working Girl, as I'm sure her dish was properly cooked and delicious, as opposed to Dinner As Mental Defect.

I'm off work for the next two days (WOO!), so posting may be spotty. Don't let your missing-me muscles start to atrophy.

*'tis the season.

Summer came in this year not like a lion or a lamb but like Satan, all blistering and angry and contemptuous. Grass died, sidewalks steamed, and the world was subjected to far more of my white flesh than it ever deserved.

But we all mustered our courage and remembered that we are Alabamians. We know how to do this. We simply have to shuffle resignedly from air-conditioned space to air-conditioned space for the next three months. We have to strip our babies down to their diapers and gulp our cocktails before the ice melts and stand over vents and wish for rain. We are the people who coined prettier words for "perspiration."

Fall cannot come fast enough. A local news anchor reminded me last night that it's "only one month before school starts again" and I almost burst into tears. Still, there are some consolation prizes.

tomato salads.



sparkler girls.



family fun.



light lunches.



cool drinks.



twilight parties.



fresh fruit.



toothy grins.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go hug a box fan.