30th August 2017

Proud proclamation on the box

posted in food, humour |

On my own for supper. The others are off to a decent restaurant and won’t be back in time to share. I’m able to prepare the finest that my freezer has to offer: a baker’s dozen of wings (not just any wings; the box proclaims proudly that these are “Canadian Farm Raised”.)

I’m not looking forward to that future time when food is “grown in an industrial laboratory”.

The dogs are going to be so disappointed when they learn that my sharing skills are non-existent. Hey, hounds. You have the kibble, and I get the bones dressed in protein and sauce. A fair deal. I could have opted for box pizza, but there has to be variety in my life.

Meanwhile, on the movie channel, something from the late 40’s with Dietrich and an cast of unknowns (to me). I’ve watched the first half of A Foreign Affair,  but now my mind is on wings. With specialty channels, I can come back another day and see if the black market is closed. Post-war Berlin, etc.

Did you know that there’s a direct delivery of flyers to the weeds at the end of my driveway? Do the merchants know that there’s a direct redelivery of those flyers to my garbage bin? After all, soggy newsprint is hardly the place to go for “deal of the day” announcements. Besides, with Future Shop out of the equation, what could I need to buy? More chicken wings?

Outside, the patio rail is lined with (drying) towels. I guess my next task will be to collect (them) and dry (them) properly.

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