Deep fried chicken gizzards.

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In lard. Like I said, my arteries are clean as a whistle, I don't have gout, and I doubt if it would matter anyway. I have a strong suspicion that most "food science" is about as politically motivated as "global warming"(tm). The more they have gotten people to eat less meat and fat, the fatter people have gotten. Then again, with an aging, dying, population, that is just what happens. Only a few genetically special people remain svelte their whole lives. Well, those and the moderately poor and those too foolish to use their slim moneys for food.

I am hoping tonight is the night to sneak out. I just haven't been up to it so far. It's not, always, that I have an order by which to do things that cannot be altered, save for having clean clothes but that is fair. It has to do with having enough stored energy, or the sense that I do, to risk leaving my home. Like a very long drive with no gas stations, if you aren't sure your vehicle will make it don't take the risk. While I am almost certain, and have never failed, to go out and come back, I realize this is just a sensory thing. Then again, I have seen the devistation to my life when I push too hard too fast. Eventually it will be fatal, one way or another.

The fried gizzards where splendid. I kept trying to figure out how my mother made them so crispy. When we were kids, she made them ever so often. And her regular fried chicken was the stuff of county fair blue ribbon material. I figured it out, hot. Not just a little, not mostly. HOT. And you really have to keep an eye on those things while they are in. But crispy? If I can make this and fried chicken like this every time, if it wasn't unconstitutional, I'd marry myself! Sex wouldn't suffer (can't). *shrug* And, no, I'm not a narcissist. But who marries for love anyway. But excellent fried foods? You bet!

And, yeah, all of my meal dishes are soaking. I need to redo the sudsy water and try and kick out more of the remnants of the other dishes that remain. Something about a clean, tidy, decent to live in home that makes one happier to be alive. My mother had here faults. She had here qualities too. Beside letting us know, very often, that she loved us she instilled in us manners, propriety, and certain ethics, including work ethic. I had thought the work ethic failed on me but I think I was a bit ill even back then. Not at disability levels, just... a nagging lack of energy at times. And she did it mostly on her own. Two boys who would otherwise have been orphanage rats. I like to think she did the world, and us, a great favor. She did what she could with what she had, and like most country girls, that ain't bad.

Yeah, yeah, I know. A soaking of some dishes, stripping of the bed to air out, a bit of laundry, and a few hours of gaming in between, and maybe to town tonight. The cats are getting very long in the face about hard cat food. And I really have to keep an eye on water for them now too. Still, it's good for them to learn to live lean from tine to time. In summer I ought to go solely to hard cat food to induce mousing. And I am thinking about having weekends be hard cat food only days... call it 'chef's holiday'.

Later.