Smoky Roasted Acorn Squash and Sausage Soup

Were you surprised when you looked at my website yesterday and there was no post?? Oh…you didn’t even look at my website yesterday? Cool. Me neither. But if you were one of the few that did and was disappointed with me, I will apologize now. But sometimes, life takes over. And my life was calling me in a different food direction, so the blog had to take the back seat for once.

I was so busy and had to be up by 3:45 on Monday morning, so I put a pork loin in the crockpot Sunday night, dumped some hot sauce on top of it, added a little bit of broth, and woke up to it pretty much burning. Guess it needed more broth. Meaning it absolutely did. That meat was the most dry meat I have ever tasted. But you know what I did? I shoved it down my mouth and went on with my day. Don’t let dry pork get you down, don’t do it.

So this weekend was pretty fantastic. I started my Friday night off with going out to dinner with Tom. Remember him? He’s another one of my really good looking guy friends. Probably the most insightful of all the ones I have. So we grabbed some food at Hanson’s where I got down on a Louisiana Salad and we got all caught up with life. That man can listen, and I sure can talk. So we work well. Especially because he can make me laugh. Guys that can’t make me laugh, creep me out. But being a creeper is sometimes kind of funny. So you gotta find that balance. Wait, what? I’m lost.

But the next night, things got real. Like, really real. It was my friend Jamie’s birthday so we all went out to a new bar in town called Punchbowl. This bar is HUGE. I mean massive. It has a bowling alley. It has shuffle board. It has multiple bars, or so I’ve been told, since I didn’t wander very far from my area. Friend comfort zone is always the best place to be. AND this bar had many good looking people in it. Not that they were actually good human beings, but at least my eyes never got bored.

So after spending a good prooooobably 90 minutes at the bar, creepin’ and chattin’ with friends, my friend Candice asked if I wanted to go dancing with her and her sisters. And the thing with me is, if dancing is in any sort of a sentence, directed at me or not, I’m in. I can’t say no to dancing. I know you just thought a dirty thought reading that last sentence, but I can’t dirty dance. I ain’t got nuff sex appeal fer that.

Long story short, I ended up at a country bar Downtown. I was chosen by a few guys to line dance, but after they saw my lack any coordination or dancing skills, I was left behind to dance by myself. Or at least I think I was. I was pretty intoxicated. For all I really know, I might have been dancing by myself and just imagined a man trying to spin me around. I honestly think I did because my feet hurt SO bad since Saturday night. Most likely because of how much stomping I was doing. When you don’t know how to dance…just stomp. That’s what I always say. Not really.

Who watches American Horror Story? Weirdos, that’s who. I think that show would make me cry from fear if I ever watched it.