Onion Rings & Other Adventures
I almost never deep fry anything, but the craving for onion rings hit hard this week. So I broke down, hauled out my trusty cast‑iron skillet, clipped a deep‑fry thermometer to the side like I knew what I was doing, and went for it.
They were pretty good — crisp, golden, and absolutely worth the trouble. The only downside? By the time I was done, the oil looked like a snow globe full of batter crumbs. Since I fry with Crisco, I had to strain it before it cooled or it would turn back into a solid brick. I remembered my mom straining hers through cheesecloth, which sent me on a whole mental scavenger hunt wondering where people even buy cheesecloth these days. (Answer: apparently everywhere except my kitchen.)
And now, a brief report from the Feline News Desk at WMEW — All Meow, All the Time:
Banner: “We observed the frying operation from a safe distance. The sizzling noises were concerning, but we remained brave.”
Balboa: “I would like to formally request onion rings be added to the treat rotation.”
Rocky (retired, reporting from the Rainbow Bridge editorial suite): “Deb, next time take pictures. The readers deserve visual proof of this chaos.”
No photos this time — just a craving, a skillet, and two cats who think they’re culinary experts.
That tiny headline didn’t just make the local paper — it put Roswell, New Mexico on the map. Before the “crash,” it was a quiet desert town. After the “crash,” it became the Alien Capital of the World, complete with:
Today is grocery shopping day. I like to stock up when things are on sale so I have a freezer full of options on the lean weeks. Today’s list was pretty basic. While I was checking the old cash flow, an alert flew across my phone: 
