Friday, December 7th, 2012

Spaghetti for guy night, otherwise known as, “I don’t know,” the answer I gave B when she asked what I was going to make for dinner. I’d given it about ten minutes of thought all day long, so when I got in the car at the end of the day I figured I’d just hope for inspiration to strike as I wandered through the store. As it turned out, I didn’t have to. After my smartass answer, B’s follow-up question was, “How about spaghetti?” And I said, “HOE-kay!” It was that easy.

We always get a freshly-baked loaf of crusty bread to eat with spaghetti, so none of the yummy sauce goes to waste. A loaf of chiabatta has lots of bubbles in it, all the better to catch and hold that sauce. Every time I’m cleaning out my bowl, though, I can almost hear my digestive system sounding the carbo-overload alarm. What does my body do with all those carbs? Never mind. Bread and spaghetti sauce taste so good I don’t really care that much.

Half an hour later we were stuffing a scrummy dinner into our faces. Guy night: Simple. Filling. Fast. And usually something from a jar.

abby someone | 5:49 am CDT
Category: daily drivel, food & drink | Tags:
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Friday, May 13th, 2011

Last night was guy night so I should have been making dinner, but I got out of it by agreeing to mow the lawn instead. And if that sounds like a good deal to you, you’re probably a guy.

It really, really needed mowing. Actually, it needed mowing already on Tuesday but My Darling B won’t miss a dance lesson; come hell or high water, we’ll be waltzing Matilda at least once a week and no damn lawn mowing is going to get in the way of that. And Wednesday night we were really super busy with something very important only I’ve forgotten what it was now and it will probably stay forgotten until about two-thirty in the morning when I won’t be able to find a pen and paper to write it down after waking up in a cold sweat.

So I didn’t get to mow it until last night, and by then the grass was ankle-deep and the dandelions were twice as high. It was so thick I couldn’t walk at a normal pace without clogging the mower. I had to take it so slow that at times I looked like an old geezer hobbling along on a walker instead of a guy mowing his lawn. It was like mowing salad.

Anybody know a good way to keep down dandelions that doesn’t involve calling Chemlawn? We like dandelions, but this year our front yard looks like a scene from a movie about invaders from space that look remarkably like dandelions, taking over the world one lawn at a time, starting with ours. The neighbor to the north of us has Chemlawn or Weed Guys come in every year and last night I could see the dividing line between her lawn and ours. On her side, lush, green grass. On our side, dandelions. Millions of ’em.

salad | 6:14 am CDT
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