Poor Scarecrow Girl. A pigail is all that remains. She has departed this world for scarecrow heaven.
While we were gone to our jobs, Scarecrow Girl got blown to the ground by the wind, and she became terribly mutilated by "predators." See photo below.
This was dinner tonight. Side note - Mike calls "dinner" supper and calls "lunch" dinner. We've never talked the same language.
Anyway, we're on the: Joanna's-not-cooking-anymore diet. Being a red-blooded southern girl, I am unable to only cook for two. It's in my genetics to be prepared to feed all family, friends, strangers, and homeless animals who may arrive at the door. Also, anything I'm cooking begins and ends with butter, real butter. My caloric downfall has never been sweet's and soda's but butter.
Tomorrow is "starvin' Friday," Mike and I have weigh ins on Saturday mornings, so ya have to eat light in hopes to get a good number.