Quiet day here with occasional thunder. Our tiny village of Nashville appears to have let the holiday go by completely. They used to be noted for their beautiful tree-lined street (that's right, it's singular) and their Memorial weekend celebrations. AEP destroyed the trees this year, and the folks are still in shock. And there appears to have been no special time this weekend for parading or eating junk or admiring old cars.

Jay and I, however, have begun some actions we choose not to call traditions. Last evening, he began to rotisserie, using his famous "little red hen" recipe. What he learned was that if you don't secure the spit in its socket, it will not spin, and the bird catches on fire. Let me add that frugality dictated that we try to eat it.

The strawberry shortcake I had been going to make for dessert had to be cancelled, due to the fire emergency on the spit; so I decided we would have it for breakfast today. All right, holiday breakfast! I made it. It looked good. I dropped it. On the floor. Once again, we practiced frugality. I learned that baker's paper becomes weak when it is heated and should not be used to transport shortcake from the oven to the counter.

Learning experiences so far. But not this evening. This evening was, "I told you so". Jay took the remains of the Poulet ala Conflagration and tried to turn it into a casserole. Frugal be damned. That bird will R.I.P. in the trash.

Going onto Facebook this evening, I found that someone wanted me to have an opinion on whether Obama should have left Washington for some vacation time on Memorial Day Weekend. I'd thought that my weekend had entitled me to some time out; but I was wrong. The Gods of Irrelevance wanted my opinion. Here it comes: Let's ALL get a life. Have a good one.