And how did I go about talking to firefighters, you ask? It was child's play, really. The Brownies went to the firehall tonight to talk to the firemen, the police and the ambulance, and since I'm a leader I tagged along and listened to the firemen, police and paramedics talk about the current local dramas. So yes, I didn't really do anything in terms of collecting information other than not zoneing out when the professionals are talking about fires and accidents and other dreadfully boring things.
Hmm, I seem to be in a sarcastic or perhaps sardonic mood. How strange and unusual. This is partly inspired by the fact that I made supper today. I made Chicken Cacciatore, and I swear that I did not notice that there was wine in the recipe until I had it halfway done. There was also garlic bread and salad. However, the happening that has put me in a rather ferociously verbose state of mind is the fact that somewhere in the afternoon, I lost my elastoplast. Those of you who have ever seen Chef will know to what I am referring. Those of you who haven't, well, your lives are unutterably more meager and poor for your lack of proper television viewing.
In other news, I love writing.
That is all. Feel free to return to your regularly scheduled lives.
2 comments:
The girls in my class decided that firefighters are too grimy, policemen are too nasty, and they prefer paramedics when it comes to men in uniform. I think they'd think differently if their house was burning though.
Wine is good in recipes! Just accept it! And all the alcohol burns away anyways ^_^
We had Chicken Cacciatore a few Communist Dinners ago. And I discovered that night that I cannot say "Chicken Cacciatore" without concentrating intensely. When I don't, it comes out as Kitchen Cacciatore. Weiwd.
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