Lulu's Booboo

I have a friend. She's adoringly known as Lulu. You may think she's imaginary, but she's a very real and tangible part of my life. In fact, we hang out with her about 4 times a week!
This friend likes to be called Lulu only when she's doing weird things. For instance, we made salsa for canning one day. And this wasn't a small amount of salsa. It was six batches of some mother-size salsa that netted myself some 100 and something pints of salsa. We'll be eating salsa for the rest of our lives. That's good, though, because I got a big thing for salsa when I was pregnant with my son. And it's lasting. Every time my husband opens a can I inhale it while he watches without moving, because for goodness sake he might get eaten too if he's seen as a moving target of meat. Yes, I like large hunkin chunks of meat. Yes I do. Take me to a steakhouse and stuff me with some meat. A big hunk of meat. Mmmmm.
Anyway, when we made salsa, Lulu thought that we'd make all the salsa, and can it in pints and split it afterward. SAY WHAAAA? Yes, I thought the same thing. How on earth would we keep track of the six batches (which by the way had to be made in six batches, not one because the pots are only so big) and our cans (what if one of us ran out) and everything else if we split it later? So I labeled 3 batches Lulu's and 3 batches Shenequa's. Shenequa is a mastermind. She planned out the recipe and ingredients to the onion and did the first batch at home to make sure it didn't taste like dirt. Anyway, we ended up doing it Shenequa's way, but Lulu will forever be known as the weirdo in my book. After the incident, we told as many people as we could about it to try to build up an army of our believers and every now and then I'll come across someone who she's already converted and I just have to knock my head against the wall because once someone's converted it like's talking to a stinkin' dog. Which by the way, I hate dogs
They are so ugly and gross. They smell and drool and do all other kind of abhorrent things. Talk about nasty. I wish they would leave me alone. But dogs like to jump all over me and HEY my pizza is almost done. Ken's going to pick it up. I love pizza. We're watching Oprah and the whole episode is about eating pizza. That's why we had to order it. And now I'll have to explain the splurge to my husband when he gets home from Portland. Tamie and I will enjoy it though. Oh yes, we will.