I'm still feeling unwell, so this week I'll be blogging on and off about the various noms that come out of FH's kitchen. Yes, the kitchen is mainly his territory.
First dinner provided by the ever lovely and eternally fuzzy husband:Cucumber stuffed with prosciutto and a mixture of ricotta, feta, and dill, served alongside a cheddar-bacon bratwurst.
Now the warning:
In case the overly corpulent, buck-toothed, sneak-thief, and lastly CHEEKY whistle-pig that resides in our neighbor's yard is stealing internet access in addition to our tomatoes and my flowers is able to read this, your days are numbered. I find myself in need of groundhog pelts to line a cloak hood for winter Rendezvous season and FH has discovered that he may lawfully help your mortal coil shuffle off provided he speaks to the neighbors, get this year's hunting license, and uses his bow. Your days are numbered you wannabe Phil.