21 February 2002

Talk about extremes...

On the advice of Random, my office-mate, I gave in and got out the china for dinner last night. I admit, it was a little incongruous: Place settings in china and crystal and silver; olives and pieces of cheese on china plates, served with proper relish forks, and we served ourselves with silver utensils...

From the big ol' family-style casserole dish straight out of the oven.

Ah, well, it can't be helped; I don't have any serving dishes in my china pattern. Maybe I should put that on my wishlist, huhn?

Dinner went over well enough that I was pleased. I admit to having been mildly worried; strongly-flavored dishes tend to be either love 'em or hate 'em propositions, and the Hicks' are not big chicken eaters. But everyone ate everything, and Kevin even went back for seconds of the potatoes, so I'm declaring it a success.

And I have leftovers. Whooboy do I... I went to the grocery store for chicken breasts, hoping to find a package of six, because I wanted enough for the three of us, plus a couple of extras in case someone wanted seconds and so I could have leftovers for lunch. What I found were two types of packages: Four chicken breasts, or eight. I have a lot of leftovers.

After dinner, wineglasses in hand, we moved to the living room to watch, of all things, Fight Club. K.T. and Kevin hadn't seen it yet, and had even managed to avoid the spoilers. Well, mostly. Someone had told Kevin just enough that he figured it out much earlier than the movie wants you to.

That went over really well. For about five minutes after the movie ended, K.T. just sat there repeating, "That was really fucked up! But good! But fucked up!"

I really ought to try to get some work done at work today. I tried yesterday, but my brain refused to behave. So with that in mind... See ya tomorrow.

--Liz