Archive for the ‘Food’ Category

Cupcake envy

Posted: February 10, 2012 in Eating out, Food

My husband and I were out for lunch the other day. We ordered with some restraint for once (plus we had a coupon for 25% off the entire check!)  so when it came time to make the “Do we or don’t we?”  dessert decision, I took matters into my own hands.

Usually, the conversation goes sort of like this:

  • Me: Do you want to get any dessert?
    Him: No.
    Me: The Tiramisu looks really good here!
    Him: No.
    Me: Oh look! They have little cupcakes now!
    Him: No.

So this time, when the waitress came to ask The Question, I said, “Yes, we’ll have one of each cupcake (they only have two kinds, Carrot Cake and Red Velvet…cuts down on the waffling, at least) to go.”  To him I said, “We can have coffee and dessert later on this afternoon.”

I thought he said, “Okay”.

Until later.

After we got home I said, “Want to have some coffee and those little cupcakes now?” to which he replied (surprise), “No”.

This time, I asked him why.


  • Him: Because I don’t like cupcakes.
  • Me: But I thought I remembered you ordering a Red Velvet Cupcake in the summer.
  • Him: Now you get too excited about them. I don’t want anything that you get that excited about.

All-righty then.

I made my coffee. I ate my cupcake and drank some of my coffee. Then I ate his cupcake and drank some more of my coffee.

Best cupcake I ever had.


Why is it that I feel like it’s my job, my responsibility, to make his lunch for work every evening? I make his lunch even when I don’t feel like making it, but I do it just the same. I do complain…… to myself.

The worst is when there are no leftovers to take; that means making a couple of sandwiches, hate making sandwiches, especially peanut butter and jelly or marshmallow. Takes too much time I feel. Leftovers are easy: just throw them in a container and that’s it! Done!

Today I told him during a text to enjoy his lunch. I received a text back that stated, “Yeah, lunch that I made by the way. Well lunch that I put in a bowl lol.”  Yes, I forgot to make his lunch and now he is trying to lay the guilt trip on me.

Did it work?


I sent a text back apologizing for not making it and forgetting. But it should be okay if I forget!  Just Make it yourself and don’t lay the guilt trip on me! After all, I do it 99% of the time.


My husband and I had gone out to eat for breakfast and I sat across from him watching him read the paper.

Not talking with me.

I just sat and ate.

I was stewing about his jacket. He has this tan jacket that he wears ALL THE TIME. It has seen better days and the tan has turned to black around the middle and on the cuffs. I hate this jacket. It belongs in the garbage. I feel it is way too dirty to ever be worn to town, let alone in my company. He wears it happily to his parents’, to work, and to church.

Oh, how embarrassed I am by this!

I finally cannot stand it anymore and say to him, “Let’s get you a new jacket.” His simple response is,  “Why? I have a new one at home.”

I thought I was going to explode. He had a new one at home and I have been going to town with him wearing this dirty one. I blurt out, ” Why aren’t you wearing it? ” He says, “If I wear it, it will get dirty. I don’t want it to get dirty.”

The new one is still hanging in the closet and has a nice layer of dust on it.


Christmas cookies

Posted: December 29, 2011 in Food
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So as the holidays approached I set out to baking lots of holiday cookies. Being in a new relationship I asked my beau what his favorite cookies were and eagerly purchased all the ingredients to make those very much loved– as professed by said beau–oatmeal raisin cookies. I made molasses, cranberry nut and my ( did I say MY?) favorite…chocolate chip!
The cookie tins were full to the brim…ahh..Christmas bliss. The beau kept his “Santa cookie plate” layered well throughout the day (s) with his favorite….well….actually no.. my favorite cookies! Not wanting to seem selfish at first I thought “Oh, so he likes chocolate chip too; how sweet!” I said to my beau, ” Oh, you like my favorite cookie too? Isn’t that great we have something else in common!”  But after 3 days of my chocolate chip cookies on said plate more than the oatmeal raisin I gingerly asked that he could be sure to save me some chocolate chip cookies, reminding him that I did say at least once that they were MY favorite. Finally out of desperation I snatched a chocolate chip cookie out of his hand and before he could protest shoved an oatmeal cookie in its place!
Once I composed myself I remembered the spirit of Christmas giving!
🙂    There’s my true story!

A pie story

Posted: December 22, 2011 in Food
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Um, the pie story… So my husband calls me from the grocery store and asks me what kind of pie I would like. I say, “Apple”. Meanwhile, I check my Facebook page and my friend  has asked people what their favorite pie is. I respond: Apple. An hour later my husband comes home with a Pecan Pie.

PECAN – I’ve never even tasted a pecan pie!  The next day my husband comes home with an Apple Pie, AND a bouquet of flowers!

Good man!

On the very rare occasions when my husband empties the dishwasher, I feel  frustrated rather than assisted. He always (as in “every time”) leaves something – or a couple somethings – out, claiming he doesn’t know where the item goes.

Now, after all these years in the same kitchen, how is it that he doesn’t know that the gadgets go in the gadget drawer, or that certain bowls nest in each other in the cabinet? These are not secrets and these items don’t get moved around. They’ve been in the same place—usually the place he got them. There is nothing worse than disturbing the pleasant view of the bare smooth lines of the kitchen counter. An uncluttered counter affords infinite possibilities (a really involved meal on a whim?) and simple, pleasurable orderliness in the most important room in the house. Is that too much to ask?

So, on the surface, my issue is with stuff being piled everywhere, a condition I call “Crap Creep,” which infects every flat surface that happens to be near my husband. If there’s a table next to the bed, it will become infected with detritus from his pocket that could stay there for months. And he can open a letter and leave it there—wherever—for weeks on end. And no job is completely done, ever: the windows are painted but not scraped, the grass is mowed by not edged, and the dishwasher is empty….but not quite.

Maybe the problem is that an uncompleted project nags at me, preventing me from moving on, cracking a smile, or listening to someone—never mind sleeping. Maybe I’m jealous that my husband can just move along with life, regardless of what isn’t finished and surfaces are cluttered. Then again, I may be reading too much into my husband’s basic tendencies to get bored with projects and move on, unconcerned.

Maybe I simply like smooth surfaces.