Until at/about 23 NOV, I’m a geographic bachelor. Friday afternoon, the Lovely and Talented Mrs. Mongo (a.k.a., Supernurse) and our eldest daughter (call sign: PROM QUEEN, who is in her final phase of nursing school) left to prep and then care for my beloved mother-in-law (may God hold her in His hand and Bless her black heart) for the next coupla weeks.
So, it’s just me and the dogs.
On the way home this afternoon, I stopped at Publix and stocked up. NY Strips, lamb chops, ribs, spicy chorizo, and the pre-prepped ground beef and pork meatloaf, wrapped in bacon, that’s in the oven as I type this. Oh, and I got eggs. I cleaned out the fridge. Gone is the tofu, the celery, the romaine. Made room for all the meat. Oh, and I got some Vidalia onions, because I love raw, chopped onions on top of red meat. An’ I got a little bit o’ red wine.
I’m a big fan of Tullamore Dew Irish Whisky, and I saw a craft jug with a finger hole in my local liquor store, so I’ll be picking that up tomorrow, for some … investigative analysis.
The Lovely and Talented Mrs. Mongo asked, “Are you going to miss us?”
Now, at 5, 10, 15, or maybe even 20 years of marriage, the answer would have been “parting is such sweet sorrow, I shall pine for you until your return to our abode.”
After an approximate (experiential) 137 years of marriage, my answer was, “No.”
It’ll be awesome. It’ll be a Meat Feast Manifesto. Oh, and tomorrow night is the all-you-can-eat buffet at my favorite Thai restaurant.
I signed up for an unprecedented (for me) three dates on Group Writing. ‘Cause, you know never got a DUI at midnight coming home from the Big Chill, or Snappers, or the OV? The guy who is at home, on his laptop, trying to write something worthy.Published in