Monday, June 22, 2009

Black Turkey Surprise

I came home from work today and smelled cooked food. My heart stopped. It wasn't popcorn, so I ruled out Microwave Monday. It wasn't pizza, so I ruled out Delivery Dinner night. Oh, shit! She didn't! Come on - please tell me she didn't...

She did. I raced into the kitchen, picking up a fire extinguisher along the way. My heart was pounding and my mind was racing. How many freakin' times is this woman going to keep trying?

I reached the kitchen and pulled the ring out of 'Old Trusty', ready to snuff the blazing aftermath of Angie's burning desire to cook a meal. I suddenly realized that my eyes were not stinging with smoke. The next thing my trained eye picked up on was that the Energizer Burner was not running around the place screaming like a little girl. No, she was actually smiling. It even had a smug sort of cockiness to it.

'Hey, sweetie...what'cha doin?'

'I'm cooking, moron. Now, go set the table.'

'Yeah, in a sec - what did you make, exactly? It looks... interesting - is that beef?'

'No. It's turkey.'

'Ah, I see. And was the turkey black when you bought it?'


'Uh...okay. How long has it been, know, cooking? Just curious. '

'About an hour.'

'Uh-huh. And, uh...was the stove on high the whole time?'

'Yeah. Why?'

'Oh, no reason. Looks great. I'm just going to go grab some ketchup.'

As it turned out, Angie's dish was garlic chicken with broccoli cooked in Soy Sauce, which explained the black white meat. Ok, she forgot the garlic and used turkey instead of chicken and somehow thought that cauliflower was broccoli, but it was still edible. What was still a mystery to me was what the hell Angie was doing in the kitchen in the first place.

An even bigger puzzler was how the food could taste so great. It didn't take me long to come up with my theory and as you know, I am always right. If I wasn't, you would be reading Angie's blog, not mine and instead of reading about burnt poultry, you would be bored to tears with triumphant stories on overcoming culinary challenges or some other silly horseshit.

Anyway, back to me and my hypothesis. Over the weekend, Tom learned to say 'Dada'. Not just some random babbling of sentences until he stumbled across 'Dada'. No, he began saying it back to me over and over again and high-fiving me as I giggled my ass off in delight and shoved my 'inyoface' fingers at Mama, which, by the way, he cannot say yet. He can say Dada, though. Oh, did I mention that already? I win. Nya-ha.

Anyway, Angie has been known to be a bit....mmm, how do I phrase this delicately. Slightly competitive? A tad jealous? Perhaps even a poor loser at times? Psycho-about-to-go-ballistic-on-your-smug-ass? In her fugue-like state following Tom's new vocabulary of one ('Dada', not 'Mama'), she obviously made the same connection that I did years ago.

Babies are all about eating, crapping, and sleeping. In that order. Tom is not stupid - he see's the writing on the boob. His twin-turbo feeding machine is going to wave bye-bye pretty soon and he is naturally scrambling to find a replacement source for his belly-filling. Tom's nose has already been witness to a few of Angie's previous 'meals' and his mind is like an elephant's; they don't forget. So, by deductive logic, Tom is now trying to bond with the closest adult figure that is most likely to feed him post-boob. That would be me, not Angie - just for any stupid readers out there. They should really be reading her blog and not mine, but you never know.
Ladder Talk:
1) What was the best part of your day?
Peter: When I played robber-thief with Mama where the thief I was; Arman wanted to catch me, too, but I am too quick for him.
David: When I played with Peter snake.

2) What was the worst part of your day?
Peter: When Arman couldn't play no more 'cause his dad was there.
David: When Tom make the Lego cake from Peter kaput.

3) What would you like to do tomorrow?
Peter: To play 'Um'; 'Um' is a game with Arman that goes 'Um'.
David: When I play and we go to the zoo and the big ones sing not.

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