Monday, December 08, 2014

Calling in the Spirit of My Dad

So Madeleina's growing up. 17 going on 56. She's cut a couple of classes she doesn't like--she swears there is no bullying or sexual innuendo from the teacher, whom I've met--lately and is shooting herself in the foot over a math class that's over her head. I've got her transferred out of that class in Jan, but she's still got to pass the first semester.
   So I called in the big gun. First time ever. That's Tom Gorman, my dad. I made his chicken cacciatore, or something close to it and it smells like him. When Madeleina eats those green and red and yellow bell peppers, when she sucks down those tomatoes, the onion and garlic, when she smells that white wine, well, Tom will work his magic. He was a great dad. He died long before she was born. I've been waiting for the right time to introduce him to Madeleina. Tonight is the night.
   The cacciatore is his spell. His magic comes through the garlic and peppers. She's in for a sweet ride and will wake up tomorrow more clear-headed about things. Thanks dad.

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