A Duck Walks Into a Bar...

I have a love/hate relationship with the show Diners, Drive-Ins & Dives. I usually see episodes that feature places that are too far away to realistically visit any time soon. Tonight, however, I was lucky enough to see an episode that's first stop was a place that's a little more accessible. And I fully intend to go. Soon.

Why?

Because someone  has managed to make pot pie look appealing. See, I hate pot pie. Crust, peas, carrots, celery, onion, chicken and some kind of gooey, white-ish stuff (more commonly referred to as gravy) do not belong together. Why? Because it's gross. How do you make this formula un-gross? You make it with duck confit. Somehow, duck that's been marinated in its own fat, which is then the base to make a succulent looking gravy (and that says a lot, because I find the whole idea of gravy absolutely revolting), which is the blanching liquid for the vegetables...now that sounds amazing. Duck confit pot pie. Yes.

I wore the new coat today. I love it. It was the most interesting thing I had on today; I was almost sad to take it off when I got inside.

Don't mind the silly faces I'm making. Obviously, I don't have a modeling career in my future. I'm too fat and short anyway.

And now for some practical, girly-type nonsense. You may tune out if you wish.

I think my hair is having a mid-life crisis. Most would say it's naturally curly, I think it's naturally annoying. It's not doing anything it's supposed to. It won't curl properly when I leave it to curl on its own, it won't hold a curl if I create curls (any method - curling iron, pin curls, hot rollers or foam rollers), and today it didn't stay sleek and straight! It got all bushy and frizzy and I could feel kinks in the back of my head. When I got home from work, I flat-ironed it again and that seemed to help, but it was so weird. The last time my hair misbehaved like that when it was straight was quite a while ago. Like 2010 while ago. I don't know what to do. I'm considering bangs, but I'm terrified that they'll look terrible and then I'm stuck with them.

Ok, practical girl nonsense over.

Lately I've been wanting to write (something other than a blog). I've always had the vain imagining that I could write a book, one that people would actually read and, here's the kicker, like. I know, that's silly. I mean, what would I write about? Last night I was offered the chance to write my dad's biography (thanks Dad), today during a meeting with my boss and the computer guy, I thought that maybe I should write my boss' memoirs, because it seems the man has been everywhere, met everyone and done everything (no offense, Dad). At least it seems that way. Every time you have a conversation with him because one minute you're discussing something relevant and before you know it, you're on a fishing boat in Louisiana. I don't know. I'll probably never do it, because in order to succeed at such an accomplishment, you need one of two things, talent or confidence; I happen to possess neither.

I'm not sure how to tie all of this together for a neat finish. What do duck confit, my hair and my literary aspirations have to do with each other?

Sounds like a bad joke.