I am not allowed to lay on the couch. Notice, I am NOT laying on the couch.
Mom is busy entertaining prior to a shoot em up at the gun range tomorrow.
So I will be your host this evening.
Dinner is in full assembly mode, something with roasted turkey bits with mushrooms and wine sauce served on caramelized onion/sage stuffing with vegetables roasted in walnut oil and a drizzle of cinnamon pear balsamic vinegar. And there's some cheesecake thing (provided no one explodes).
Mom is having fun, though I think we need to cut her off the wine as when some bikers drove down the road past the front window she starting singing "Oh Harley Boy, Your Pipes, Your Pipes are Calling." I think it's an Irish thing.
Dinner smells really good.
Hey! I got a bowl of nasty dry crap.
They probably won't let me have an Irish Moon Shot before bed either.
But Mom will be reporting back later with a recap of the shooting, some photos of gear and later in the week, a recipe or two.