Sunshine day ...

Oh - and also Food Wednesday, isn't it?

There's no cooking for me this week. Or next week. Well, at least not professionally. And sadly not on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day, either.

I keep trying to tempt Dr. Whiney into letting me make SOMETHING ... but so far the good doctor is holding firm, "NO COOKING!" 


"NO, NOT ANYTHING, NOT THIS OR THAT, NOT IN A HAT, NOT WITH BACON FAT!"

I've suggested a lotta Mini-frittatas made ahead. "No!" he spat like his stupid cat.

I didn't think it would be chancy to suggest some Fancy Macaroni and Cheese, "Oh please?" He held firm, he's so stern.

On Christmas morn, who wouldn't want a casserole to adorn the table? "Surely they even ate in the stable?"

"Not as long as I'm able to to disable," he grinned.  I'm beginning to think he's not my friend.

Trying to sound Italian, ('cause doesn't a good accent get to a gent?) "I suposa, you wouldn't go for a Mimosa?" Apparently his heart's not made of granite, "There's a small chance I'll let you plan it."

Getting the cava will be a strain, because last minute shopping is SUCH a pain. However, I'll drink like a squid, 'cause we'll be surrounded by kids. 

This must be his holiday bliss to have no chef. But for me it's only led to this roman a clef. How can the man be so DEAF?