Cliffhanger

I know.

I promised this wouldn’t turn into a food blog. But good grief.  As much as I love my classes this semester, and would love to write something profound and moving, all that comes out is a  pathetic sort of whimper.

And also chicken strips. Frozen vegetables. Grilled bratwurst. Tater tots. Yeah. That’s the most exciting components of dinner the past two days.

We did, however, hold an impromptu great-feats-of-strength demonstration after dinner last night–complete with one-armed push-ups, face-first falls into push-up positions (think Batman), planking, extended wall-sits, some sort of strange stork pose, and my favorite: the cliff hanger.

That’s right–we have definitely proven  that a teen boy can hang by his fingertips from a cliff (read: ledge above the stairwell) and, using only his arms, pull himself up over the brink and to safety. No toes allowed.

I may not be a stellar chef, but as least we’re getting in some face time. Yes?

 


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