March 2nd of this year and what feels like a lifetime away writing this in September. It snowed and was a slushy mess. I had to take the subway to work on this grey wet morning. And there I had these spicy sweet sticky chicken wings for lunch with a salad. I tried to pile on the carrot sticks like that would make a difference. The lunch attendant always reminds me I could take more. I think we were allowed 6. I then reminded her that when you come around this side of 50, your dumb ass bess not be eating 6 sweet, sticky chicken wings for lunch. That I shouldn't be eating them at all but I can't get my shit together enough to pack a darn lunch. By the way, the lunch girl has no interest in hearing my stories, or any problems I might have. She makes it clear by landing the smack of her gum right on my words that possibly annoy her the most. Then again as she hands me back my credit card while keeping her head turned as far from my eyes as possible, being sure to let go of it right before I have a grip so that I have to catch it mid air.
Then later that night P made thick huge pork chops with his own baked beans, although I'm still not sure how he made them. He made quick mention of adding spices and things. The whole pile looks like it slid onto the plate trying to steal a base. He said he's not great with sides but these were actually delicious. And the pork chop was perfectly cooked, tender and well seasoned.
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