OK first of all the title is a bit deceptive. This is not a blog about hootchies. In an attempt to be a bit more creative, (kitchen you naughty people) I made a particularly aggressive marinade for pork tonight. I zested a lime and added the juice and put in some sweet chili dip. There are other ingredients but i will not be able to taste them as i burnt the tongue so bad I cried out, yup, you guessed it,"hoochie mama".
Jim will love these when i grill them. We are also having rice and lentils. By the time he gets to the rugby training tonight his stomach will be on fire, but he will be smiling. My food is good, but my spices are pedestrian. No adventure at all, for example a korma can be too spicy to me, so there you go. The point is, JIm will love these, and he will love me. I even made a fruity jello for dessert to cool his lips.
I is a good wife. I really try. I know there are so many areas Jim has to compromise because of my illness, but today I got out the box grater and went to town. I even found a recipe because sometimes my best laid plans are pretty out there.
I never thought I would say this, but I miss the zucchini i took for granted in America. It is here, but it is called courgettes, and you never know when it was picked. I miss eggplant and the lasagna my Dad made with it instead of pasta. I think my Dad would love the shepherds pie I learnt to make here, as he dearly loved anything of vegetables. I miss my Dad. He could be a real pisser, but when he grinned it is like the whole world shone for a minute. He could grow corn and asparagus like no ones business. He taught me to fry squash blossoms. He taught me. He wasn't the most patient man, but if you were quiet he would come out with some real gems, and on a rare good day, you could here him humming as he looked through the farmer's almanac or his burpee catalog. You would think it was his Christmas list he smiled so big when they arrived in the mail.
Jean Spivey just posted a great pic of her Dad for his birthday, and it made me miss mine too. My Dad wasted a lot of time we could have shared, but the last few months of his life he made up for it in spades. Although he never once ever hinted at it, I have come to know he loved me. I find i don't say it to my step-kids either, and i love them desperately, but I don't want to creep them out. Or worse yet to see on their faces they like me as their Dad's wife, but...
So I waste time, time I do not know I have, and one day I may regret never telling them. Everyone else knows how I feel, and I am wrong not to tell them. Don't be like me. Don't be like my Dad. Don't be stupid. Just say it. They will tuck it away in a small pocket in their hamster-like brains, but it will be there.
Bless you. Thanks for listening. Dinner is at 6.
Jim will love these when i grill them. We are also having rice and lentils. By the time he gets to the rugby training tonight his stomach will be on fire, but he will be smiling. My food is good, but my spices are pedestrian. No adventure at all, for example a korma can be too spicy to me, so there you go. The point is, JIm will love these, and he will love me. I even made a fruity jello for dessert to cool his lips.
I is a good wife. I really try. I know there are so many areas Jim has to compromise because of my illness, but today I got out the box grater and went to town. I even found a recipe because sometimes my best laid plans are pretty out there.
I never thought I would say this, but I miss the zucchini i took for granted in America. It is here, but it is called courgettes, and you never know when it was picked. I miss eggplant and the lasagna my Dad made with it instead of pasta. I think my Dad would love the shepherds pie I learnt to make here, as he dearly loved anything of vegetables. I miss my Dad. He could be a real pisser, but when he grinned it is like the whole world shone for a minute. He could grow corn and asparagus like no ones business. He taught me to fry squash blossoms. He taught me. He wasn't the most patient man, but if you were quiet he would come out with some real gems, and on a rare good day, you could here him humming as he looked through the farmer's almanac or his burpee catalog. You would think it was his Christmas list he smiled so big when they arrived in the mail.
Jean Spivey just posted a great pic of her Dad for his birthday, and it made me miss mine too. My Dad wasted a lot of time we could have shared, but the last few months of his life he made up for it in spades. Although he never once ever hinted at it, I have come to know he loved me. I find i don't say it to my step-kids either, and i love them desperately, but I don't want to creep them out. Or worse yet to see on their faces they like me as their Dad's wife, but...
So I waste time, time I do not know I have, and one day I may regret never telling them. Everyone else knows how I feel, and I am wrong not to tell them. Don't be like me. Don't be like my Dad. Don't be stupid. Just say it. They will tuck it away in a small pocket in their hamster-like brains, but it will be there.
Bless you. Thanks for listening. Dinner is at 6.
No comments:
Post a Comment