As I sit here bleary eyed sipping the magic elixir of caffeine and review the week in my mind, I am seriously considering going back to bed.
The skies are gray, I slept fitfully, having pulled my nightshirt on backwards in the chilly air last night. That alone deserves a re-do. I tugged at the neckline all through the night as it was trying to choke me. I knew it would not be a good night when fat old doxie, Oscar, sidled up to my head last night. I could hear his tummy churning, and like all children, Oscar wants his mommy when he does not feel so good. In his younger days he would insist that I sit up in bed and hold him in my arms and gently pat the gas bubble out of his body. Now that he is old and fat, he is content to lie as close as he can get to me and I am compelled to keep my hand on his belly, lest he wiggle and whine.
So, with my shirt choking me, the hotdog burning my side, and the husband snoring I don't think I ever reached that level of sleep that actually refreshes the mind and body.
Oscar woke me at 3 am and we made the pilgrimage to the back door with the other 3 dogs in tow. I was in a warm and fuzzy state and anxious to crawl between the sheets before that feeling escaped me. The dash out the back door to retrieve the near-blind and hearing-challenged Emmy took care of that. The bitter wind that billowed up my backwards night shirt brought me fully awake as I dodged dog leavings to reach Emmy on the other side of the yard as she wandered aimlessly in search of my voice and what must be a big blob to her cataract covered eyes.
You would think I would have noticed the choke collar my backwards night shirt had created and remedied the situation, but I was on task getting 4 dogs back to bed and settled. Toni, the dog pound dog, took advantage of the opportunity to snag a kindling stick out of the firewood to take to bed to chew on and Wall-E, the wonder dog, decided to cower just out of reach under the table when I scolded Toni. Wall-E is a sensitive little fellow and takes all my scoldings to heart, whether they are directed at him or not.
When finally climbing back into the bed, I found that sleep had entirely escaped me. So I lay there, counting dogs and thinking, my mind seeming to be in high gear. I pondered the problems of the world in this state. Okay, the problems of my world ......... You know, things like the current status of my still undone bathroom.
I have noticed a trend. I will point out an obstacle that will prevent the ease of installation in a pending step of completion; he who fancies himself to be a carpenter will appear to be listening, but will subsequently disregard my advice and continue on to do it his way. This produces unsatisfactory results and will stay that way for a day or two. Some times I don't even have to comment on it. He will halt all progress and busy himself with other things. Then I will see the offensive results of his way leave the building and he will then go back and do it the way I said to do it in the first place. It will at that point have become his idea. Right now we are in a holding pattern and another week has passed as he is reconsidering a piece of trim.
At some point I decide that these thoughts are causing anxiety and decide to think other thoughts. I review the contents of our freezer in my head. He,who would bring home the bacon, bought a hog two years ago. He helped with the processing of the meat. There was no bacon or ham involved when he found out the cost of that process. Pork steak, pork chops, ribs and sausage was what came home with him. No pork roast, he didn't think about that. The sausage was seasoned by him and he didn't want to over-season it, so it was really ground pork. We have been eating this for two years and are now sick of it. My job is to find creative ways to prepare it so that he does not recognize it. Last night we had lasagna. I made the meat sauce with ground pork, but after a couple of bites he identified the meat and voiced his preference for beef in this dish. I wanted to tell him that we could celebrate with a beef dish when he completed my bathroom, but I am sick of my pork diet, too.
So, I am left with some chicken thighs and corn dogs. At the end of the "season" we are always left with whatever doesn't sell. Some years the corndogs are a big hit, some times it is the individual pizzas. The burgers are always a hit, so, there are usually only a few of those left. This year, we were left with a nearly full case of corndogs. As I lay, sleepless in the kampground, I pondered the lowly corndog. They can be fried or baked. They can be eaten on a stick or pulled free and eaten with a fork. You can eat them plain or you can add condiments. What goes with corndogs? French fries? Mac and cheese? Beans?
In my sleep deprived state I conjured up a new dish. Corndog Casserole. In Minnesota this would be called Corndog Hotdish. Casseroles and Hotdish both have one thing in common ......... cheese. And this one thing I am sure of .... my husband will eat anything slathered in cheese. In my mind I concocted tonight's dinner. I will spray my dish with non-stick spray, then put a layer of hashbrowns, a layer of velveeta (what my mother referred to as "real cheese"), topped by a layer of sliced corndogs. Pop into a 350 degree oven and cook for about 25 minutes until the corndogs have browned and the breading is nice and crisp. This will allow the cheese to be melted into the hash browns and hopefully be a little crispy on the bottom. This will be served with a side of baked beans (also from the kampstore). Nutritious? Probably not, but it will use up some of the stuff I already have.
Having planned tonight's dinner and still awake, I decided to save the world and fell into another fitful sleep that was interrupted by the alarm and the sounds of my husband bumbling around as he dresses himself. The dogs clamber to the end of the bed and beg for his attention, he ignores them and goes on about the business of readying himself to head out to hang out with his buddies and contemplate what is on the schedule for his day.
The dogs persisted and I got up and took them out and fed them and here I sit with my coffee cup drained and little ambition to move from this spot.