Been awhile since I have been on here to write. I have been lurking around, reading, but not commenting. I have been in a solitary state of mind. Really not wanting to talk to anyone. Works out good, since He Who is not at all uncomfortable with companionable silence. He usually can't hear me anyway .........
I have watched endless hours of TV and played spider solitaire until I can't move my thumbs. I would say that I don't know the reason for my melancholy, but that would be a lie. I miss my Dad. He comes alive nearly every night in my dreams, and I wake everyday to wait for bedtime. I have toyed with thoughts of upping my dosage of meds, but I take enough as it is. Not to mention the fact that I doubt my doctor would be too happy if I self medicated.
So, after a week of this, I decided to snap out of it. A couple of nights ago, He Who is not a cook, decided to do just that. Bacon and eggs, his cure- all meal. The bacon was in the freezer and I heard the microwave come to life. I decided to offer no advice, thinking that he had it all under control. I didn't even give a thought to the mess he would be leaving. I even fantasized that he would at least offer to clean it up.
I sat here in this very spot, watching a sit-com as the aroma of bacon wafted into the room. Smelled good for a few minutes, then I smelled burned bacon. Why do men think that everything should be cooked on the highest setting? I called out (bellowed, really) to turn the temperature on the burner down. I have told him this before, that cooking bacon should be a slow deliberate process. He scrambled eggs for me and toasted bread, and served me where I sat. He cooked another round of bacon and did not serve me the half raw, half burnt slices of his first batch. He even brought me a glass of ice water the way I like it ...... three cubes of ice covered with tap water.
I waited until morning before venturing forth into the kitchen. The only surface not grease splattered was the floor. This is not as amazing as you might think. Oscar's senses may be dull with age, but, bacon he can smell. He likes to stand at your feet and hope for grease splatter as you cook and he was not disappointed. Bet his tongue ached after he scrubbed the floor. I got a pan of hot soapy water and resigned myself to the task at hand. There were egg shells to deal with. Some he put in the trash, some he left on the counter. I even found some pieces on the top of the oven door! He tries. All one could ask for!
Today he took me on an outing. To WalMart to pick up some necessities. He even took me out to lunch. I am sad to say the food wasn't all that good. A Mexican restaurant that was bland. I am not a big fan of spicy foods, but this had me looking at the hot sauce on the table to add flavor! The meat in the taco salad was flavorless. A soft flour taco held the meat, some shredded lettuce, a dollop of sour cream, topped by two slices of tomato and some cheese. No spice on anything, not even salt and pepper.
Still nice to get out. It is a dreary, drizzling day. Matches my mood. I learned yesterday that a long time blogging friend died two days ago. Sad things seem to follow me lately.