I fixed the brake light on the minivan and went to cross it off my weekend To-Do list. Nope. Wasn't even on there. So I scribbled "fix van bulb" on there so I could cross it off. I might put "drink luke warm coffee" on there to really feel like I've made a Global Impact. If I used hashtags, they'd be things like "fake accomplishments" and "this is what it's come to". Sigh.
Yesterday, the youngest and oldest came home from an overnight with their cousins. They were 1.42 seconds into the door when things went south. "Come see the fish I got!" Uhhh...what? I thought I was on good terms with my Sister-in-law, but I must have gotten her a horrible Christmas present or something. I'll skip the minutiae, but what followed was a pretty impressive Laying Down of the Law by Dad. It might have included a Preamble and several Commandments and a bunch of he
...I say pierogi. Slovak, Polish, Ukrainian...wherever they're from and however you spell it, pirohy/pierogi are one of those foods that can instantly send me into a fit of nostalgia. Growing up on these things, I've felt a duty to learn how to make them and preserve a small piece of my family heritage. As it is, I have a good friend, Barb, whose family history also involves pierogies...err....pirohy, and also had a hankering. We talked and decided she was willing to spend a