He IS Going to Make Me Get In The River

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Lucy_Cat considers whether she's up for a tubing tripAfter yesterday's post went up, I called Blair at work. 

"Anything you want to tell me?" I asked.

"Um... no?" he answered.

"You're sure," I said. "Nothing at all on your mind.... that you'd like to say now... of your own free will...?"

"Where are you going with this?"

"Pull up my blog."

He did and I heard a groan on the other end of the line. 

"Did they come like that?" he asked, the dismay evident in his voice.  "They weren't even wrapped?"

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Uh, Honey, Anything You Want To Tell Me...?

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Uh HUH. So. I'm sitting at my desk this morning, tap-tap-tapping away on my keyboard when the doorbell rings. Cats go flying under beds and as I walk to the front door I see a man in a brown UPS shirt walking back toward his truck. Yea, a delivery! Deliveries are always such fun. But hmmm.... I don't remember ordering anything as of late. What could it be?

God give me patience. I open the door to find these on the front porch:

Why doesn't he WARN me about these things? The other day I came home to find a 6-foot wrapped pole leaning against the mailbox. Fishing pole? No - bow and arrow set. I don't know whether to be happy he's got a hobby or - frankly - a bit concerned. 

So I don't know what Conan thinks we're going to do with these inner tube things. I'm hoping the word "River" on the box is misleading and maybe he's booked us at some 5-star resort where we'll sip organic pina coladas as our tubes are guided through an air-conditioned tunnel of chlorine-filled, chemically altered crystal blue pool water. I KNOW he doesn't expect me to set foot in the humid, buggy, mud-entrenched Dan River outside our home. Does he? DOES HE??

I swear, if snow shoes or a hang-gliding kit show up at the door, I'm having him evaluated. 

I think it's revenge for all the vegan meals. I SAID I was sorry about the $75 hemp-protein pancakes already... please, honey, let it go.

Next On the Food Network: Dena's Dinner Disasters

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Blair and I went grocery shopping today (where we ran into not one not two but THREE sets of neighbors when all we had yet in our cart was Gilette razor blades, birdseed, and two huge boxes of Playtex sport-glide tampons because we had a coupon about to expire - one can only imagine what they think of us) and then I came home and cooked. Blair, wise/cowardly man that he is, disappeared upstairs. He crept back down a few hours later and peered around the kitchen door.

"Everything okay in here?" he asked. 

"Fine," I said, smiling cheerfully while I drained some edamame. "Why?"

"Um, I heard some... questionable noises a while back."

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The Way To A Man's Heart: Sprouted Bread & Vegan Cheese?

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There was a tenseness in the air last night as we sat down to dine. As I spooned food onto our plates, I swallowed against the lump of self-doubt lodged in my throat. Blair eyed his plate suspiciously. It was a do or die moment. 

Let me explain. Years ago we discovered a "Beef Taco Bake" recipe on the side of a Campbell's tomato soup can. With a few adjustments - soy crumbles for beef, whole what tortillas for flour ones, and plain salsa for chunky because Blair was in his "I won't eat anything with chunks in it" stage - the recipe became a staple in our home. Gooey and satisfying, we shoved the tomato-cheesy-floury goodness down our throats at least once a week. It's quite possibly one of Blair's favorite meals.

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