Actually, we're having pork roast tonight, but whatever.
I asked my random number generator--otherwise known as Blammo, my third-born--to pick a number between 1 and 7. Fully embracing the role, he beeped, rattled, hummed, started emitting smoke, and then hollered "5!"
Which means flchen1, you get a platter of bland, rubbery veal, served up inside the thrilling plot of my first published book, Crossing Swords. I have your email, and will send ASAP (as soon as plausible, which means tonight, if I don't have a maternal lobotomy moment). Congratulations!