The Artist polished off the last of the lasagna this morning. I figured he and I could nuke the frozen corn dogs for dinner, and I could make The Director a grilled cheese sandwich.
Evidently the mailman came while I was in the basement, and nobody told me. Wandering past the kitchen table with my corn dog, I glanced over and saw a box where no box had been before. From Arizona. Woot!
For you see, my droogies, last week Scarybaldguy was offering a limited production of his Epic Sketty Sauce for sale, and I jumped all over it. I love sketty. I have two teenage boys in the house, and they would happily eat sketty every night. And here it was, our sketty sauce!
I chucked the corn dog and boiled us up some sketty. I boiled a lot of sketty.
Oh. My. God. If you like sketty, you must try this sauce.
Sketty’s all gone now, as is most of the first jar. We’re all lounging around in the living room with our pants unbuttoned, feeling eminently satisfied with life. I’m trying to figure out how to convince SBG to move to NC, where I can keep him in a nice apartment and he can provide me with sketty sauce and beef stoo.
I got two jars so I could share it with our friends and family, but now I’m not sure they’re getting any.
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