gleeful smellovision

no one called. the chickens are the in the oven. no pictures of the process.

darn darn darn.

oh well, they'll still taste so yummy. with roasted herbed new potatoes.

[making things with herbs on the fourth of march is just my masochism coming out. just a few months until an entire array of fresh herbs spring forth on the back deck. until then.... i'll just subject myself to the culinary version of self-flagellation, and make do with dried ones. darn darn darn again.]

I did snap a few of the inside of my oven, but that doesn't really help you.




I mean, i guess it all looks appetizing, but....

I used to have a philosophy professor, Michael Herrington, who incidentally gave me my only B in philosophy while at Ole Miss (he and I were on entirely different wave lengths....). He did say one thing that has stuck with me. He taught me philosophy of war (maybe thats why it was my only B....me and philosophy of war... not so much), and he had us watch some of the great war movies during the semester. In the middle of the beach scene of saving private ryan, he just started shaking his head. He paused the movie and said, "no one can ever know what it's like until we have smellovision"

So... You can never know what these chickens are like until we have smelloblogging.

garlicky lemony goodness is wafting. that's right.... wafting. throughout my house and my life at this very moment. I may never smell the same, but i care not, because i am gleeful with anticipation.

Ada Brooks just read over my shoulder and said, "Mama - i don't know if gleeful is right or not. I mean, I don't know if you've ever been gleeful"

Thanks, Bee.

Eason said, "gleeful - I am gleeful"

Yes, yes you are.