In other news, today I made dinner. I remembered to take out a chicken breast to thaw before I left for work. Chicken breast and a baked potato was the plan.

But the best laid plans, you know.

After picking up the car at the mechanic (and it's sad how going to a mechanic seems to be a regular part of my schedule now), I ran to the grocery store for those things like bread that make shopping non-negotiable. I always thought milk would be that item that dictates when you shop, but no -- it's bread. No milk, and you just drink water instead. And you have toast or something for breakfast. But no bread? That means no PBJ for lunch. Which means no lunch. Bread, my friends, makes the world go round.

Anyway...

As I was starving my way through the grocery store, I envisioned my first do-it-yourself meat and potatoes dinner. (I have not yet made straight-up fresh-ish meat or baked a potato...I'm not a huge baked potato person.) Brainstorming ways to brighten up a simple chicken breast, I purchased two slices of proscuitto (sp?) and planned to top chicken with that and a sprinkle of mozzarella.

The chicken, of course, was still frozen when I got home. Somehow, Ariel's life defies the laws of thermodynamics. I had to guess at how long to cook it -- and overestimated, as all directions I could find were for two pieces. (For goodness sake, just think how many singles/widows there are out there!)

The same was true for two potatoes. I decided to considerably cut down the time, which resulted in a considerably toasty but considerably crunchy baked potato. My cooking skills, it seems, need to catch up with the baking ones.

After a load of dishes went in to soak, I went out for a walk. As I'd already been on a walk today, this time I took the phone, called my "little" bro. It's his sixteenth birthday. He's taking AP History (JEALOUSY) and getting excited about Mock Trial. He and the fam and Meg and Nate all went to Applebee's for dinner.

(It should be noted that it is highly unusual for the family to eat out on a weekday.)

I wished I was there, too. After a few minutes I remembered that "thou shall avoid eating out with the family" is one of my rules of family survival, but that's another post. Still, the first day of school, birthday season is coming up (three more within five days in October), the leaves, Jesse James Days, Miss Molly... I miss 'em. They keep asking when I'm coming home. Wish I knew, too!

Tomorrow, I get to teach high schoolers about journalism. I'm nervous, of course, as I've got no real plan, but I'm also excited. I've thought some in the past about teaching journalism or English, and goodness knows how much I enjoyed preparing for the ultra-boring, ultra-useless Beacon mini-seminars and AP Style Quizzes. (The first Beacon is this Friday......... ... ... ...

Don't alumni get free subscriptions?)

Oh, Jesse James Days! I completely forgot. It is my duty as a former researcher, tour guide, archivist, educator, cashier, and assistant to the director of the Northfield Historical Society to educate all of you as to the events of Sept. 7, 1876. Perhaps this weekend, instead.