Fatter Tuesday - Mission Accomplished.

I managed to scarf two donuts and two Pączkis.  Someone mentioned that they wanted to see a picture of one.  So here you go…

What could be a Pączki, if I hadn't eaten them all.

I was on a Mission from God Tuesday morning to even find any at all.  The guy at Zingerman’s looked at me apologetically and said “You needed to reserve them ahead of time.  No reserved boxes, no Pączkis.”

“Can I reserve three boxes right now for pickup in ten minutes if I wait over there by the door?”

I tried in vain to look like a nice person but failed miserably.

“No.”

There was no hint of apology in his voice this time.

Damn.

So I frantically drove around looking for a place that could serve an honest Pączki. I skipped Kroger, didn’t have time to drive to Hamtramck, and when I stopped in Meijers with the cloying scent of defeat and shame  and asked the gal if they had any Pączkis, she looked at me and said…

“What are Pączkis?“

I struggled valiantly to suppress the twitches of various body parts and to not look disappointed.  I  must have failed in the attempt since the baker-ess took several steps back and was trying to reach for the phone. An elderly couple gasped and somebody whistled. A tumbleweed rolled by.

So I bought four large packages of chocolate donuts, donut holes, cinnamon rolls, and raspberry donuts to quell the whinging of my co-workers.  If you listen to them they will tell you that I was the one to start whining about pastries on Tuesday morning.  DO NOT LISTEN TO MY CO-WORKERS.  THEY LIE.  ALL OF THEM.

On the way back to work I asked Cruel Wife to please look at a nearby grocer to see if they had any. Thirty minutes later she called to report success. Yay!!!

I could only eat two. I was all proud of scarfing down two paczkis.

Curtail Friar put on a professional show of Fat Tuesday and I feel inadequate. It is fair to say that crammed inside each pastry is seventeen eggs, two quarts of whole milk, two sticks of butter, and nine cups of sugar but I still feel like an amateur.

Perhaps I was unfair to not post a real pic for you.  Here are the only two Pączkis known to be roaming in the wild in our house.  They alone survived the gauntlet.  I will turn them loose and perhaps there will be more roaming around next year.

The nimble Raspberry and Apple Pączki. The slower custard/creme ones did not have a chance.

On the kid front… there’s some improvement but still a great deal of concern on our parts.

****

Utah.  Where a kid needs to get permission from a parent for each and every tanning session but only notification (if possible) given to the parent before a teen gets an abortion.

Wow.  It’s good to make sure your kids are safe from harmful UV radiation and it’s also good to have unimpeded ability for your children to kill their children.

Santorum may have said something politically stupid when he talked of “Satan Attacking America” but he probably did the right thing by saying it anyway.

Regardless of your stance on abortion (and I’m going on record as opposing it, vehemently) you have to admit that not requiring parental consent is taking too much of being a parent away from the parents.

Let’s put it this way – teens gets to exercise their options in being a parent but the teen’s parents do not?

Seriously?  And yet we’re concerned here with excessive tanning sessions?

That is all.