I was going through some sewing notions that a friend gave me when I found this: Read more
Dude
Father’s Day Swineapple Phase 3
Well, Dude and my mother liked it. I can’t stand pineapple, so I was having none of it. Neither was XY TD, who ate about two cans of green beans by himself. XX TD had some but she’d been noshing all day and wasn’t hungry (also, she ate all the pineapple I carved out of the middle).
Depending on how you define “hit,” it was one because the person I made it for liked it. A lot. And he is grateful for a plethora of leftovers.
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Note: The smoker instructions called for 5 hours. I roasted mine, checking at 3 hours expecting the thermometer to register 120F or something, and shot to 180F before I pulled it out.
My mother felt the need to say to me, “Oh, c’mon, just one bite. If I tell you it doesn’t taste like pineapple will you have a bite?” “Mom, I MADE this. I can turn my nose up at it if I want to.”
I will not be making this again, so if you do, good luck. Also, invite Dude. And my mother.
Father’s Day Swineapple Phase 2
Father’s Day Swineapple Phase 1
I don’t know where I ran across the “Swineapple” recipe, but it got posted to Reddit not too long ago and immediately went semi-viral.
Dude Review – Apocalyptic Montessa and Nuclear Lulu: A Tale of Atomic Love
Title: APOCALYPTIC MONTESSA AND NUCLEAR LULU: A TALE OF ATOMIC LOVE
Author: Mercedes M. Yardley
Publisher: Ragnarok Publications
Genre: Horror
Year Published: 2014
Number of Pages: 175
Format(s) Available: ebook, paperback, audiobook
Amazon Kindle ASIN: B00HWMK298
Reviewed by miztrniceguy aka Dude*
Originally posted on Amazon
burn baby, burn!
This story is very dark and twisted, but at the same time it’s a sweet love story. I was surprised at the tenderness between Lulu and Montessa. I was hoping for a different ending and was surprised by it.
This is my first book I have read by Mercedes Murdock Yardley, but won’t be the last.
*Note: miztrniceguy aka Dude is the guy Moriah sleeps with. He reads a lot of books, but has only lately gotten into the reviewing game because he started hanging out with Moriah’s writerly type friends who aren’t quite as storied as Stephen King.
The unsung hero
So in light of today’s confessional, I need to talk about something that occurred to me Saturday and has been percolating ever since.
One reason I despise sitcoms is because so often the dad is made out to be an idiot. Yeah. He is. He goes to work (usually at a job he hates), provides for his family, and gets slammed at every turn. Why is he putting up with this?
A mobile phone commercial from a couple of years ago (I forget the provider) has stuck in my head. A middle-class black family, with the kids completely disrespecting the father for some reason, and I thought, “Yeah, that Stupid Dad thing transcends race. All dads are stupid according to Hollywood and Madison Avenue.” The only dad I can recall on TV who wasn’t portrayed as terminally stupid was Bill Cosby, but as everybody knows, he’s got very definite opinions about what is and is not acceptable behavior in parent-child relationships.
Anyway…
Saturday I went out (outside!) to blow leaves. Manual labor gives me the opportunity to let my mind wander, and I was thinking about my husband, who was at work, a typically structured corporate-type job (albeit with hours that are a bit out of the norm), one he sometimes doesn’t care for very much. But it’s secure and we have good health insurance.
I’d been spending my day fiddle-farting around. Did a couple of ebook jobs, did a little DDJ, did some cleaning, some reading… Yelled at my kids (that’s normal). I decided to go do this little chore and it occurred to me about an hour into the job that my husband is the reason I have the freedom to fiddle-fart around, arrange my day any way I want it, and…
…self-publish.
I would never have done this without him behind me. He believed in my talent when I didn’t and spent years pounding his faith into my head. He sacrifices endlessly for me financially and with his time, and this venture that would not exist without him.
No, I would never have done this on my own. It was him, his faith in me, his willingness to sacrifice everything for me. He bears my temper tantrums and my moodiness and my not-very-niceness (read: bitch-on-wheels-ness) with grace and equanimity. He comforts me and dries my tears and helps me solve my problems. He gave me children and supports them and me, helps corral them to let me work.
I’d have nothing were it not for him.