Ok, now I feel better about myself: I got started early today and got the tomato sauce going in time for its full eight hours or therapeutic simmering. So no more wisecracking from Frylock: "you call yourself a Mastandrea, eating those mashed potatoes and brussel sprouts on a Sunday?"

Though I'll admit my willingness to outdo definitely got the best of me: hearing of the recent veal-strip triumph, I was actually eyeballing a giant veal rib in the butcher-case this morning, thinking "yeah, I can throw that in the pot..."

But it was way too big. I let my eye wander to a package of stew-chunks nearby and I grabbed that instead. I should have read it more carefully -- it was lamb. Oh well, it's in there now. Could turn out real nice.