Sometimes you just want a burger

No rissoles, daubes, or delicate bisques. No organic roasted chicken nestled on a bed of heirloom veggies. Just a burger, a nice fatty one mooshed up with worcestshire and tabasco. And (gasp) frozen Cascadian Farm french fries, oven baked beneath a shower of salt.

Have you given up on me? Admit it--sometimes you just want something plain and maybe not exactly high up on your doctor's healthy foods list. I sliced some cucumbers on the side. A nod to green things, okay?

Tomorrow I see the orthodontist (pushing forty, with braces...could I be LESS cool?), meaning Wednesday dinner will be soft. A nice risotto, some polenta, a dish of pasta. Our cupboard is nearly bare, so I will stop in the posh grocery conveniently located near my ortho and get Hockeyman some chewy animal protein. I will also buy a rabbit, because this particular store is the only place I've been able to find them locally. I plan a rabbit adventure over the weekend, when I will have time to fuss.

This will be my second go-round with bunny, the first time being fairly successful--Peter was a bit overcooked. He was a frozen fellow, quite expensive at twenty bucks (hence this being only the second time). I got some odd looks when I asked the counter guy for a rabbit, especially from the extremely pregnant woman next to me who had a toddler in tow. Both mother and child looked horrified, as if I'd asked them to hand over their pet. The shrink-wrapped carcass the butcher gave me looked nothing like the fuzzy pink-eyed guy the kid had at home, I assure you.

I am posting more story, but H-man says I should put it up as a separate post. Still learning the etiquette.