Wednesday, October 7, 2009

Vomitus americanus & a man a woman and a marriage

I'm going to Re-Blog from a post that I'd written from my MSN blog, before I began my Tender Graces/Virginia Kate Sagas blog. I'm not there much, at Howling from my Mountain. I wrote nature-inspired themes a lot. I wrote about how I was in a play (Bat Boy The Musical). I started a "novel to blog" there. I wrote about rejections letters. I wrote about my writing journey. All kinds of things I'd like to revisit and write about here at my new blogspot home.
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One evening GMR was at his theater rehearsal. I savored the quiet house. I fell upon the floor and made a dust angel. I went about touching things. Bored and a bit hungry, I went to the pantry and retrieved a can of Campbell’s Vegetarian Vegetable soup. I said, “Hmmm, what can I do with this soup?” (And yes, canned soup, when I have a “Chef” in the house…stop, don’t . . . DON’T JUDGE ME! Stop it now!)

That soup needed something, so why not be creative! Yes! Who needs Chef Ramsey? Who needs Chef John Besh? Okay, I do, but that's another story, teehee.

I remembered the roasted cauliflower GMR prepared the day before. I could add that to the soup (so as not to recognize what it really is: canned soup). I had a momentary thought, “I wonder what GMR would prepare if he weren’t at the theater? I bet some tall blond is all going, ‘oh GMR, you are sooooo wonderful! Ohhh, I wish you were MY husband! I’d sure enjoy your food love….ohhhh your wife is a FOOL munch munch mmmmmm yummmm ummmm ohhhh ummmm!’” *sigh*

I slooshed the soup from the can, added the roasted cauliflower, a little pepper, and then swirled it with the puree thingee . . . hmmm, not quite. I opened the fridge. AHA! Sour cream! I added a dollop of that—Oh! I was clever! And black beans! Hey! I added a few spoons of those. Then I swirled it all about with the puree thingee. Well. Now. There.

Um. Okay. I placed a napkin over it and put the bowl in the microwave. 3 minutes later—KaDing-Done!

When I took off the napkin, what greeted my eyes was what looked exactly like vomit. Yes, Vomitus americanus. Spew. Hurl. I tried to pretend otherwise. I sat down with my spoon and bowl of “Soup” and took a bite, then another—tasted like . . . tasted like . . . the bottom contents of my stomach; yes, just as it looked is what it tasted like: as if I’d eaten it hours ago, let it ferment in my belly, then brought it back up into the bowl. *sigh*

I threw it away, and oh I hate wasting food.

There was a time I cooked, I thought to myself, as I watched the gloppy glunk sludge away, I just choose not to. And, besides, every time I’d cook one of my “specialties” GMR would outdo me—huhmph. Why bother? I can’t win. And we all know it’s about winning, right? We all know marriage is one big ass competition to be on top. To be the best. To be the one everyone says, “You know, She is okay, but HE is wonderful! He is sooooo perfect. SHE doesn’t deserve what she has. Lucky Her. But, she’s okay, I guess. But if he was my husband, I’d appreciate that cooking. But, bless her little heart.”

Later, GMR came home, and in his hand he held the most glorious cinnamon bun I’d ever seen. He said, “Look what I brought you.” I nonchalantly grabbed it out of his hands and scurried away on all fours, growling and sniveling and drooling, “Food! Food! Snnnarrl.” Then I peeled that bun and ate it layer by sweet wonderful layer…ahhhhhh. Twas sweet.

I don’t even know the point to this post. Though there are all kinds of lessons and all kinds of “the moral to this story is . . .” and all manner of women wanting to bomp me upside my head for having a husband who cooks for someone who has become bored with food. I can hear them, “Send him to my house, bee-otch!” And I just smile that smile, that patient one, that one where I know what it means, but they don’t know what it means . . . and then I shrug. Because, really, no one knows the whole story of Man And Woman And Marriage, do they?


Patience-please said...

I have a Husband Who Cooks, too. Sometimes I foolishly regret that he has become a better cook than I am.

Then I taste his home made tomato sauce from our home grown city tomatoes, and I get over myself!

[And I answered on my blog, but you can get my book from my website - link on my blog, don't want to be self-serving here - and then I can sign it just for you. Thanks for asking!!! But I also said it's just a book of little stories, not a masterpiece like TG... Oh gosh.]

Janna Qualman said...

I'd love to see some posts in the vein of your MSN one. Then again, I love what you do here.

It may have been the sour cream that did the soup in. Yeesh.

What a dear husband GMR must be. But what a dear wife he has.

Analisa said...

I love that!

My Dad was a cook. On my list of things I would desire of a husband if I should marry that he loves to cook.

I am a decent cook but don't have a passion for it. When (smile) I come into wealth I will probably still clean my own home but I will hire a good cook. LOL

Strange Fiction said...

Funny stuff Kat--I love it! *laughing* And where does everyone find these guys that cook?

Carol @ TheWritersPorch said...

I love to cook but there are times when I choose not to,so Hubby jumps right in and cooks for us!
It's nice to know I DON'T HAVE TO IF I DON'T WANT TO! :)
I knew that "recipe" was not going to taste good! HA!

Travis Erwin said...

I cook nearly every night. Of course it's just meat on the grill. If my wife or family wants veggies they have to do that themselves since I don't eat any myself.

Titus said...

It is written on no stone that woman shall cook and man shall eat her offerings.
Ditto hoovering.
Ditto ironing.
Ditto ditto ditto.

Pseudonymous High School Teacher said...

I'd like my husband to cook... and help with homework...and.....

Jessica said...

Hey, what's wrong with tall blondes? LOL Okay, I'm really a light brunette....

Wah! I wish my hubby would take over cooking. I HATE it. What a drain on my creative thoughts to have to think up something to make everyday. LOL

Don't worry. I think he's lucky to have you! :-)

The Unbreakable Child said...

"And I just smile that smile, that patient one, that one where I know what it means, but they don’t know what it means . . ."

Exactly, exactly!!

Glynis said...

I found my DH is a brill cook when we moved to Cyprus. He is now in charge of the kitchen...well cooking as he never cleans up! LOL