Richard's had a hankering for macaroni and cheese lately. Don't ask me why. I've never made it and according to him his mother never did either. A commercial must have caught his eye and he thought he wanted to try it.
"Guess what?" Richard sounded as excited as a schoolboy on his return from the grocery store.
"What?" I wanted to know.
"Macaroni and cheese was on sale. Two for one." He handed me two blue pouches of Kraft macaroni and cheese. "Can we have it tonight?"
When it was time to make dinner, I opened one of the pouches and began to prepare it. Four cheese flavor. I boiled the noodles and melted the butter with milk. I mixed it all together and it looked pretty good. I made chicken breasts to go along with it just in case.
Richard took a bite and then another. "What was I thinking?"
"What's the matter?" I asked.
"Macaroni and cheese is horrible. It's prison food."
"You've never been in prison. How would you know?" I was enjoying my dinner until now.
"I watched 'Lock Up' and saw a big glob of it on a metal tray." He pushed what was left on his plate to the side. "I'm not eating any of the leftovers either."
"OK. I'll have what's left for lunch tomorrow." I smacked my lips.
"Why do you like it so much?" he asked.
"In college we used to make mac and cheese after a night out drinking. Great hangover food."
Richard watched me lick my plate clean and then finish his. I said to myself 'thank God I don't drink anymore'. If I did I'd be at the grocery store stocking up on two for one.
"No more watching 'Lock Up' for you or next thing you know, we'll be eating off metal trays and making license plates." I added.
Boy, that mac and cheese was good.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Monday, May 9, 2011
Lady Gaga and Baseball
Richard is a huge baseball fan. It's a pastime he's discovered in retirement. Every morning he checks the paper to see what time the Tampa Bay Rays are playing. He plans his daily schedule around the game.
Yesterday was a dilemma, however. HBO was playing a 24 hour marathon of Lady Gaga and the Monster Ball. They filmed her show at Madison Square Garden. Lady Gaga is an amazing talent and the show is full of energy and artistic creation. Ah, but the crack of the bat is music to my ears.
Thank goodness for the squeaker (our nickname for the television remote control) and the 'last' button that allows us to go back to the previous channel. The Rays were playing the Orioles. Three up, three down. Alejandro! Flashing lights, a flowing white dress that opened and closed to the music.
"The score is 3-nothing! We missed it!" I screamed when the game came back on.
"But we would have missed all that crotch grabbing," Richard replied. "And who'd ever thought she'd play a keyboard under the hood of a car."
Back to Gaga. The volume went up. The room throbbed to the beat of the music. Costume change, back to the ball game. Great catch, Sam Fuld. Johhny Damon, line drive into center field.
"Hey let's go to the Monster Ball. C'mon Monsters!"
Pop fly!
"You are all monsters. You were born this way. You Monsters!" Gaga growled.
Sparks flew from her boobs and her crotch. I have to admit the costuming was pretty amazing. But I was getting pretty tired of being called a monster. Back to the game and the score was now 8-3. Monsters were winning.
The lights, the costumes, the sets, the infectious beat of the music is no match for a simple game of wooden bats and leather mitts. Lady Gaga is an awesome talent but I wonder what kind of monsters she's creating. Kids today want more, more, more. Every show, movie, gadget has to be more stimulating and over the top than the last. I think I'll stick with the simple excitement of running the bases and be thrilled to watch Lady Gaga mentor the final four on American Idol this week. Just like baseball, I know that Lady Gaga is in it for the long haul. When the radio on my alarm clock went of this morning, guess who was singing? Lady Gaga. And I sang along.
Yesterday was a dilemma, however. HBO was playing a 24 hour marathon of Lady Gaga and the Monster Ball. They filmed her show at Madison Square Garden. Lady Gaga is an amazing talent and the show is full of energy and artistic creation. Ah, but the crack of the bat is music to my ears.
Thank goodness for the squeaker (our nickname for the television remote control) and the 'last' button that allows us to go back to the previous channel. The Rays were playing the Orioles. Three up, three down. Alejandro! Flashing lights, a flowing white dress that opened and closed to the music.
"The score is 3-nothing! We missed it!" I screamed when the game came back on.
"But we would have missed all that crotch grabbing," Richard replied. "And who'd ever thought she'd play a keyboard under the hood of a car."
Back to Gaga. The volume went up. The room throbbed to the beat of the music. Costume change, back to the ball game. Great catch, Sam Fuld. Johhny Damon, line drive into center field.
"Hey let's go to the Monster Ball. C'mon Monsters!"
Pop fly!
"You are all monsters. You were born this way. You Monsters!" Gaga growled.
Sparks flew from her boobs and her crotch. I have to admit the costuming was pretty amazing. But I was getting pretty tired of being called a monster. Back to the game and the score was now 8-3. Monsters were winning.
The lights, the costumes, the sets, the infectious beat of the music is no match for a simple game of wooden bats and leather mitts. Lady Gaga is an awesome talent but I wonder what kind of monsters she's creating. Kids today want more, more, more. Every show, movie, gadget has to be more stimulating and over the top than the last. I think I'll stick with the simple excitement of running the bases and be thrilled to watch Lady Gaga mentor the final four on American Idol this week. Just like baseball, I know that Lady Gaga is in it for the long haul. When the radio on my alarm clock went of this morning, guess who was singing? Lady Gaga. And I sang along.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Beds and Bones
Ginger is in my bed again. My nice clean sheets and fluffy pillows are strewn about as only Ginger can do. She doesn't listen to me and my calls to get down from the bed are ignored. She's never listened to me. If you read her story, 'Treat, Pray, Love' in Chicken Soup for the Soul: My Dog's Life you'll learn that her disobedience started at a very young age.
Why is she in my bed? She's hiding her bone. It's not a real bone dripping with delectable juicy red meat. Oh no. It's a bone just for dogs that came out of a bag that I bought at Walmart. She insists on hiding it amongst the pillows, but the real entertainment is messing them up first.
I wondered why dogs insist on burying their bones so I looked it up on the Internet. It's a survival instinct that goes back to the days when they killed other animals for food. The dog had to eat quick before other hungry predators arrived to steal it away. They'd bury it and come back later to retrieve it. Ginger gets regular meals but I guess it's the same thing when she drinks out of the puddles in the street. She loves to act like I'm neglecting her by not giving her any water when in actuality she has two doggie water bowls and three toilets which in her mind are also water bowls.
I've seen her scratch at an area rug in an attempt to hide a bone under it. But the bed? Doesn't she know we sleep there? Hide it in the kitchen, Ginger. It'll be ready and waiting for you at dinnertime. But there are no pillows to mess up in there so it wouldn't be nearly as much fun, would it?
Tonight when I get into bed and scream when I lie down on the half chewed bone, she'll decide to finish it. It's much more fun that way.
Why is she in my bed? She's hiding her bone. It's not a real bone dripping with delectable juicy red meat. Oh no. It's a bone just for dogs that came out of a bag that I bought at Walmart. She insists on hiding it amongst the pillows, but the real entertainment is messing them up first.
I wondered why dogs insist on burying their bones so I looked it up on the Internet. It's a survival instinct that goes back to the days when they killed other animals for food. The dog had to eat quick before other hungry predators arrived to steal it away. They'd bury it and come back later to retrieve it. Ginger gets regular meals but I guess it's the same thing when she drinks out of the puddles in the street. She loves to act like I'm neglecting her by not giving her any water when in actuality she has two doggie water bowls and three toilets which in her mind are also water bowls.
I've seen her scratch at an area rug in an attempt to hide a bone under it. But the bed? Doesn't she know we sleep there? Hide it in the kitchen, Ginger. It'll be ready and waiting for you at dinnertime. But there are no pillows to mess up in there so it wouldn't be nearly as much fun, would it?
Tonight when I get into bed and scream when I lie down on the half chewed bone, she'll decide to finish it. It's much more fun that way.
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