Potato Tears

The Man is TDY for the next three weeks, and Os and I are home alone.  He tried to go with The Man, but I think in the long run he'll be glad that he stayed home with me...and his litter box...and his food bowl.

So far, I've got to say, not having my husband here is just...weird.  Considering that I'm pregnant (read: hormonal) and I really only cried yesterday over a lonely baked potato, I think I'm doing pretty well.  Oswald and I are bonding.  We eat barbeque together.  Don't tell the Man; I'm not supposed to feed the cat people food.  Yup, this is what happens when the Man leaves.  I start breaking all our family bylaws (do not, under any circumstances, feed the cat people food); I turn into an insomniac; and I cry about carbohydrates. What's next?! I can't wait to find out...

We take our cat for car rides

It's 12:41am.  The Man is sitting next to me on the couch, obsessively playing Typing Maniac on facebook.  We just finished watching Escape from New York and are about to watch Escape from L.A. My sister has been demanding for about a month now that we watch Escape from L.A. but when we sat down to watch it tonight and the Man realized that it was a sequel, we ended up watching New York first.  How? Why? I don't know. But we did.  And we ate donuts while doing it.  Donuts we picked up with the cat.  As in, Os had a great time riding in the car with us.  He did not have a great time getting out of the car as it was pouring down rain.  So worth it though.

We're on to the next movie now.

Remember

A year ago today one of my dear friends died, a heart friend who made me laugh. Since then, I've thought of him nearly every day--not morbidly, but joyfully.  His death is very hard for me to realize as he was one of those people who was so full of life that it defined who he was.  There are so many times when I have found myself telling a Jon story only to remember midway through that he's gone.  It comes as a shock.

So today, though the emotions are close to the surface, I remember the good.  And there is much good to remember.  Jon was a part of my life since I was three years old, about as long as I've known anyone who isn't immediate family.  He was my first crush (we got married when I was 4 and he was 5). He was my arch nemesis in middle school. He was my dorm brother in high school, the drummer for our worship band, the one I got in trouble with during class.  We were about as different as they come, but we made each other laugh, and in some way we balanced each other out.

Mas Jon, I miss you.  I wish you could've been at my wedding.  I wish I could've told you that the Man and I are having our first child in January.  I wish you were still a part of my life.  But I know you and Jesus are loving life together, and I love that.  Today I'm remembering you.

The Muffin Man?

Jack: How you can sit there, calmly eating muffins when we are in this horrible trouble, I can't make out. You seem to me to be perfectly heartless.
Algernon: Well, I can't eat muffins in an agitated manner. The butter would probably get on my cuffs. One should always eat muffins quite calmly. It is the only way to eat them.
Jack: I say it's perfectly heartless your eating muffins at all, under the circumstances.

-The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde

I made muffins yesterday, nice fat ones.  I finally got the guts to confess to the Man (at around 11pm) that I'd eaten seven of them for lunch. Yes, seven. Seven muffins.  He had three when he got home from work and that left two in the ziplock bag on the counter.  Those two were my breakfast plan.

But they weren't my breakfast.

Why? Quite simply because the cat ate them.  Yes.  The feline ate my muffins. And I have yet to forgive him. What business had he to be eating muffins at all, under the circumstances?  It was perfectly heartless of him!

Steak (because I can)

So, while the Man and I were at the shore this week, I decided to order a steak (yes, when I could've gotten seafood--don't ask).  Now, I like my steaks medium-well to well-done.  As in, I don't like to see gushy red stuff coming out of something I'm eating.  The Man informed me, however, that by ordering my steak as I did, I was practically inviting the chef to give me the crappiest piece of meat he had on his hands.  All I have to say to that is "shame on you!"  My steak actually turned out quite scrumptious (even the Man said it wasn't bad), but when I got back to D.C., what did I find on my yahoo homepage but this:

http://food.yahoo.com/blog/edlevineeats/27074/the-best-steaks-to-grill

The first two lines read: "If you ask Mark Pastore of La Frieda Meats, a Manhattan-based meat purveyor, you should never prepare your steak well-done. That's like squeezing all the goodness out of the animal (and eating a leather shoe)." 

My response? Oh, well.  I don't plan to stop eating shoe leather any time soon.  It tastes nice.