The silence of the goat

Continuing Erica's week of not cooking very much, last night was book club night. Surprisingly enough, I am not the one who paired "Let's discuss this harrowing memoir of being raised by an alcoholic" with "over $2 Tecates." But I do approve.

We met at a place downtown called The Screaming Goat. That is the actual name. This is the actual logo:

It was on the wall right next to our table...looming. Screaming. For some reason, I was inspired to go vegetarian.

I said "vegetarian," I didn't say "not terrible for me."

Also, doing a Google image search for "screaming goat" did not have nearly as terrifying a result as I anticipated. In case you wondered.

Ducking out of dinner duty two nights in a row left me surprisingly homesick for my kitchen appliances, so...wait, I don't know, I hesitate to share this recipe. I really feel like I would have lived a longer, thinner life had I never stumbled across this post on lemon rolls from the kitchn. Sorry, "sticky lemon rolls with lemon cream cheese glaze."

Don't worry little lemon, you will be reaching your full potential this day.

A rare giant doughfish from Lake Sugarbutter.

I wanted to add a caption for this one, but it's too hard to type through the tears.

Know how sometimes a recipe looks so tempting that you know by the time you go through all the work for it you'll be a little disappointed in the actual result? That did not happen here.

Also, yesterday I learned that if I spend enough time in the kitchen, eventually Anna will manage to pee on the ottoman.

Hey Anna, whatcha got there? Oh, the diaper you were wearing 30 seconds ago? Excellent.