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Batchen’ It
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 General
Wear it out, friend!
Postscript: there’re two other points I wanted to put in the SITREP but didn’t. I blame the mojitos.
-Sundays are my Andrew Klavan binge day. My singing voice must just be getting better as I get older, based on how the hounds started baying every time I belted out the Tickity-Boo theme song.
-We’re have arctic conditions down here right now. Both Sunday morning and today the temperature was 58 when I woke up. I actually had to wear a long-sleeve t-shirt walking the dogs. It’s heinous, man.
Did you want to come up and visit? We’re supposed to get to a high of 48 today. Then on Thursday, we’ll get to 50. The two days in between will be a bit chilly, though.
Let me think about it No.
I live the same life, refrigerator-wise, when my vegetarian spouse takes off.
Plus any time I need mayo, I have it without needing to scrape the remnants on the bottom of the jar. He can go through a jar of that stuff in two days. (What else can make mounds of veggies appetizing?)
Ranch.
Turn the veggies into tacos.
The Texan feller who introduced us to good whiskey had to stop buying Tullamore Dew since whole bottles of it tended to disappear at alarming rates.
I have three bits of advise:
a) Only eat what the dogs will eat. Anything else is compost for the garden.
b) I would suggest bourbon, but it is you call.
c) Make sure the house is clean when She returns. (Use Her standards, not yours).
PS: As a widower, I have a difficult time generating much empathy for your situation. Your time with Mrs. Mongo is a gift from God.
Concur.
I’m usually a Maker’s guy. Thus my reference here–and, too, that guy ain’t me; but I’m a Maker’s guy.
Yes, and (someone told me never say “yes, but” because then shields come up and you’re not communicating), I do all the housekeeping anyway. So anyone that wants to criticize can take over the mission, right the heck now.
I concur. Wildly and wholeheartedly. But, I will not miss her on a simple 8-day stretch. We’ve been through years of long-term separation. 8 days ain’t even a speed bump. TLTMG will pull, from the Rucksack Of Wifely Grievance, the fact that I was (longest spell) gone 22 out of 24 months, one time. Don’t even get her started on the 179er day phenomenon. I pay for that every day. Well, to the extent that I care about paying. Ehhh. A little bit, not much.
I like it.