The Angry Chef

Started Saturday with a long soak in the hot tub on a clear sunny morning, before sitting down to spinach cream cheese eggs a l'ainsley, and then some more (!) promotion presents, since we'd been too baked to open any Friday night. Ainsley's folks got me a sharp-looking black-billed Service Cap with the "Scrambled Eggs" motif of clouds and lightning on the brim, as well as a book about the history of fine military cooking (S.O.S, anyone?).
Nice enough to throw the ball around out front, and Ryan even requested his bicycles again after a short 'winter' hiatus. He was even able to propel himself forward a few feet on the pedals! As long as he was on a slight downward slope of the driveway. His first Ryan-powered trip had him tuckered out enough for a quick nap before we sped over to the Boivins' (where my mom, dad, and brother had already been a few hours) for a lovely beef brisket and Ryan's first barbecue sauce, which he really liked on his corn casserole. Or straight off his spoon.
Sunday I picked up Tim, Mom, and a four-cheese egg souffle & bagels to share for breakfast at home, then helped put together his cool "Mack" leggo set with a leggo Lightning McQueen that you can drive up a ramp into the back of the rig. He also got a stuffed rabbit in a blue vest. That only slightly smells like hair spray now.
Tim and Ryan accompanied us to the airport to drop off Mom, then hit an Arby's on the way home, Ryan entertaining us with a "Da-Da" version of The Blue Danube waltz on the way up and Old McDonald's on the way back (apparently he had a green light on that farm, with a go-go here and a go-go there), plus mimicking the little girl on the French Fry box "thinking Arby's" -- putting his finger to his bottom lip and going, "Hmmm..."
The in-laws were back in town after we walked the dogs, so I decided to make something out of the military cooking book they got me, but only "if I promised not to be in a bad mood," said Wifelove, clinging to the impression that I get extremely upset when I cook because everything always goes wrong and something's forgotten or undercooked or made wrong because the powdered sugar sure LOOKS like flour the hell do I know?
But the meal, "Napoleon's Chicken Marengo", though taking twenty-five minutes longer than I'd expected, turned out lovely, and it was one of the most fun times I've had in a kitchen lately. On the flip side, I am now expected to make the asparagus every time it's called for, since Ainsley's, to paraphrase her, always end up tasting like pencils.