I Like Ike

Actually, I'm not real fond of Ike. The impending watery doom has forced me to engage in actual work, something I try to avoid. The main house is completely boarded up and the guest house is as boarded as it'll get. Now we sit and wait. Whee!

I'm roasting a pork loin and drinking whiskey sours as we wait. You might deduce my level of concern is not particularly high. You would be half-right. We've done what can be done. Now, it's in the hands of fate. Or Lorenz's pet butterfly, whichever.

Since I am not closing on my new house today, I'm going to go back to packing boxes and waiting on my pork roast. No fancy recipe this time, just season liberally with an appropriate choice, sear in a skillet, pop in the oven at 300. It'll be done soon. In the meantime, I'm going off to contemplate appropriate sides. Maybe if I'm lucky, they'll replay the video of Geraldo drinking the bay as wave knocks him over down in Galveston.

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