Friday Night Recap:
One of our housewarming gifts when we bought our condo was a giant-sized, deluxe George Foreman Grill. This grill came with a bonus item…wait for it…The Baby George rotisserie. Since its unveiling, it has occupied its little home on the shelf above the refrigerator. Then on Friday, as I was meandering the aisles of the grocery store, I remembered it was there and decided that for dinner, I would rotisserize a whole chicken. Yum. I would also make a loaf of home made bread in my Oster. Double yum. So I gathered the ingredients and headed home. I started the bread right away, because for a tasty loaf of whole wheat based bread it takes about 3:40 from start to finish.
When it was time to start the chicken on its 2 hour roasting schedule, I entered the kitchen and decided to take a peak at the bread. Um, what? The entire loaf of bread was approximately 1.5 inches tall. I chalked it up to the fact that it still had another hour to “rise” and left it at that.
Now for the chicken. I managed to get it loaded on to the rotating spit thing, despite extremely mediocre illustrations in the booklet. I got the whole set-up locked and loaded, and set the timer for 120 min. With approximately 119 min and 5o sec to go, the machine started smoking out the top. Not a little smoke, but a lot. Oh my god. I reach for the dial to turn the thing off, and CRACK! The knob breaks off. Now the spit has fallen off of the gear inside, so the whole unit is now making an aweful thumping noise. This is a fine piece of machinery right here. S notices the comotion, and comes over to try and help. Trying to rescue the chicken, I look over and he is with super glue in hand, attempting to fix the knob. No dice, it is beyond repair.
I decided to go the safe route, and threw the chicken in the oven. Poor Baby George is now sitting in a bag in the hallway, ready to head for the dumpster. The chicken turned out just fine in the oven, but I cannot say the same for my bread. It never did get any taller, and it came out with the consistency of a hockey puck. It probably would have made a pretty good weapon if the objective was a blunt blow to the head. Oh well, you can’t win them all.
Was totally uneventful except for my 7.25 mile run through the snow. I felt great, until I got home and realized my pace was almost 10 min/mile. I will attribute that to the fact that in my estimation, only 10% of the trails/sidewalks/roads were cleared of snow. The rest of the time it was like running on a blanket of dirty, slippery slop, so I proceeded with caution. Despite the conditions, it felt good to get out there for what was my longest run in quite some time.
The rest of the day was spent reading, napping, reading some more, and ordering pizza. In that order. It was perfect.
I was proud of myself for heading out to the Y for my strength training workout. It was hard, but I am finding myself less and less sore after these sessions, so I consider that a good thing. I imagine in no time I could probably beat my mom in arm wrestling.
The afternoon and evening was spent at a Super Bowl party at my aunt & uncle’s house, in which I consumed much food and wine, and one too many frosted sugar cookies. I returned home exhausted and ready for bed, which is where I headed. It was a good weekend indeed.