Funny How One Thing Leads To Another

It's been some time since I posted a Friday picture of sheets hanging on the line and that's because I've been lazy and have been drying them in the dryer but today I decided...why not?
I am not sure what prompted me to dry them outside today because it was chilly out there. And when I say chilly, of course I mean it was probably in the lower fifties or maybe even upper forties or something but I am not kidding when I tell you that my fingers were frozen before I'd finished pinning it all up. But I got pleasure from doing it anyway, and seeing them blowing in the breeze. 
Maurice did not follow me outside because she is intelligent. She spent a good part of the day sleeping on a heat register, draped over it like a super model posing on the beach. 

So guess what I ate last night for my late supper? 
I think this is hysterical- leftover eggplant parmesan for the fourth night in a row. 
I believe I may be over turkey. Today I cut all the meat, both cooked and un-cooked from the bones that I could and then boiled the carcass for about forty-eight hours. Haha! No, it was more like four hours. But that meat is done now! And I have enough stock for a year's worth of soup. Tonight, however, we are having turkey flautas which I never make anymore because they are fried and there is no way an air-fryer could reproduce what happens to them in hot oil in a cast iron skillet so what would be the point? 

Now there's a story here. Forty-two years ago on the Friday night after Thanksgiving, Glen Moon set his cap for me. We'd met, sort of, because we had friends in common. He was originally introduced to me by the brother of one of my best, dearest friends who was painting my house pink. The brother, not my friend. He subcontracted Glen to paint the shutters and steps gray. 
Hey! It was the eighties. Plus I was a single mother living in a stick-up-the-butt neighborhood and I felt the need to let my freak flag fly after I received an anonymous note asking me to keep my yard tidier because basically, it was a blot on the 'hood. 
Haha! I said. I shall paint my house pink. 
So I did, or rather, my friend did, and Glen helped him. There's more to THIS story than I have the time to tell but it did involve weed. As so many good things do. 
Anyway, to make a long story interminable, as another friend of mine used to say, nothing clicked at all between Glen and me on that first meeting but on the night after Thanksgiving, not too long after that, he espied me at the local dive bar where my ex-husband's band was playing and where I was wearing a sweater my beloved friend Sue-Sue had lent me which was made of the softest mohair imaginable and for some reason, just would not stay on my shoulder. 
Invitations to dancing ensued and by the end of the evening, he was dropping major hints about how much he would love a turkey sandwich but I ignored those and went on home with my mohair-wearing bad self. 
Within a very short while though, soon enough in fact for me to still have turkey leftovers, I did invite him over for supper and made him turkey flautas. 
The rest is history. 
Sure, there's more to the story but that's the true and honest explanation of how we got together. 

The recipe I use is one that a friend of mine gave me and it is probably the least authentic turkey flautas recipe in the entire American continent but it is good. I have not yet told him that we are having turkey flautas and I will have to remind him about it being a sort of anniversary for us. He will remember the turkey flautas though. I wish with all my heart I still had the sweater that he bought for me before Christmas had even come around which was exactly like Sue-Sue's although it was pink instead of blue. What happened to that sweater? When we get to heaven are they going to give us a big bag of all our favorite garments that somehow fell through a portal, never to be seen again? 
Golly, I hope so.

And that is my story tonight. I spent most of the day being domestic, doing laundry, making that stock, doing a little mending and of course, making up the bed with the clean sheets. It's now martini time and I should go get our supper started and the stock strained of bones and meat and all of it refrigerated. Some of it is going to have to go into the freezer which is going to require some Jenga or Tetris-like maneuvering. 

Tomorrow I have an appointment at the Costco hearing-aid place to get my hearing tested. There is also a story to this but I'll save it. 
Somehow, that night when Mr. Moon first asked me to dance, so charmed by that sweater and my then-lovely shoulder, neither one of us had even the vaguest thought in our minds that one day, we would both be getting our hearing tested because we would be spending half our lives walking around the house yelling, "Did you say something to me?" and also, "WHAT?"

And yet, here we are. 
Love is grand, ain't it? 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon