OK, so I recovered from Saturday's lunch with Mama with a generous sweat that I repeated the following Sunday morning. I tweeted about going to church, and Lil asked about hell freezing over. She knows how I feel about church. We even concur as to how a $100,000 4th of July firework display put on by a Baptist church answers the directive, "Feed my sheep." (It does not.)
So Lil arrives about 1:30. She's all hungry, and I am to, and we hit the Saucer for some bar food. And then the arb where we left the bees in a reduced state.
Finally, the appointed hour arrived. It was time for Lily to leave. Sadness. And the world turned colder. I made a roast in response. Bear in mind that I had no idea what was frozen in the package. I just knew it was headed into the pot as a roast, regardless of it's previous reality.
Bear in mind that disaster lurks ever present. My intent was to make some knockoff Activia a la my cultured buttermilk process. That was not to be.