Dangerspouse Rides Again

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Garage - Track




Nov. 23, 2013 - 3:54 p.m.

Sober. And Not Happy About It.

Woof. Didn't I swear - like, 7 or 8 times now - that I wouldn't post anything again while drunk?

Actually, come to think of it, no. I don't think I did. Ever. If that were a rule there'd be only, like, 4 entries in my entire diary.

But last night was pretty exceptional even by my standards. So...sorry about the previous entry. It was the last Friday of my vacation so I wanted to really blow it out, and NewWifey(tm) was all excited because earlier in the day she was notified that her little kitchen-table company is going to be featured in a national magazine. That certainly called for a drink. Or 10.

Let me tell you, my wife can drink. I don't know how she does it. When we go out to dinner and I suggest ordering a bottle of wine, she says "Each?" And she means it. I think she was born without a liver.

So, then, yesterday the gloves came off, the corks came out, and I came crashing down. Seriously, when I wrote yesterday's entry I looked and sounded like Jabba the Hutt. NewWifey(tm) at that point was just giving an occassional burp or two, and berating me for not keeping up.

The worst part, though, was losing to her in Mario Kart. It's not just that she beat me at Mario Kart, it's that she only started playing the game something like two weeks ago. I've been playing car racing sims my entire life, and drunk or sober I should be able to ride her like a toilet seat. But for some reason she's taken to it unbelievably quickly. I think it's the Wii controller. It looks and (she tells me) feels somewhat phallic, so of course she's a natural at manipulating it. Once I convinced her not to put it in her mouth, that is.

I will say in my defense that she only beat me in ONE series. Still, despite the fact that I won the other 11 or 12, she is never going to let me forget she beat me for the rest of my natural life. Including at this year's Thankgiving table.

Which leads me to my other headache. This year was supposed to be the first Thanksgiving in almost a decade where I'd have off from work and be able to cook the entire feast. I'd put in to have the day off back in January, and it was ok'd by management. But this morning I got an e-mail from my boss telling me that because of blah blah blah blah blah I'd have to work. Have to.

So once again NewWifey(tm) is going to have to do the lion's share of the cooking. Cooking - any cooking - is not something that makes NewWifey(tm) tremendously happy. When it's a multi-course holiday meal which will be served to people who are showing up expressly because they thought I would be cooking, her blood pressure numbers start to look like the national debt. (This exact same thing happened 4 or 5 years ago, btw. One of our guests refused an invitation from her Rear Admiral nephew to dine at the US Naval Academy when she heard I was going to personally be preparing the feast at DangerHouse. Sucked to be her that year.) Oh, and to compound things my father is coming up from Baltimore. My father hasn't taken the 5 hour drive to DangerHouse in several years, and never on a holiday. So NewWifey(tm)'s Stress-o-Meter is cranked well past 11 just from that alone.

Fortunately, despite all that, I think she's gonna do fine. For one thing I'll insist that she start drinking as soon as she gets up Thanksgiving morning. That's when she does her best work. And frankly, she's now had to cook the turkey so many times while I've been working that by now her bird - and most of the sides - are as perfect as mine. I've also cranked out a few things that can be pre-made, which should help. Today I made soup: cream of roast butternut squash with lemongrass. It may not sound fancy, but that combo is really killer. It's in the freezer, next to a big container of homemade vanilla ice cream. The ice cream will be topped with marron glacÚs that I whipped up last week. I've also pre-made and frozen a big batch of stock, and will prep as many veggies and pastes as I can Tuesday and Wednesday when I get home from work. So despite NewWifey's (very loud and non-stop) lamentations, I think it's not going to be another 9/11 as she's predicting.

To bring this full circle, didn't I swear - like, 7 or 8 times now - that I wouldn't do anything requiring physical activity the day after a massive drunk? Well if I did, I certainly blew it today. With my head hurting as much as Rob Ford's campaign manager's, I agreed to caddy for my little old lady/personal physician/golf partner. I can't swing yet, but I can ride in the cart and hand her clubs. She's all excited because...well, because she always excited about golf. So even though it was TWENTY SEVEN DEGREES OUTSIDE and no one else in their right mind was playing, she wanted to get out there on the course on her day off. And she wanted me to join her. So I did. And boy, I thought I was hurting before.

You know what? I think a drink might help. I wonder if NewWifey(tm) will join me....

Bottom's up, kids!

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