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I may have set a dangerous precedent.

32 Comments

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The husband’s weekly Sunday pool game is still in full swing and I fear I’ve doomed myself to a full day of cooking, serving and cleaning from here on out.

I’m hard wired to feed people when they visit, and though technically no one is visiting me… the men come over to play at 9:00am and don’t leave until 3:30 – 4:00pm which means lunch. Whipping up something in the crock pot works well because it meant less trips back and forth, and with no kitchen or running water in the man cave I’m not serving 3 course meals. But it also means I’m up and cooking at 5:00am every Sunday so it’s ready at noon. Back and forth to the barn with cutlery, plates, serving utensils etc. … setting it all up, feeding them, clearing up, running it all back to house to wash. This is not my idea of a relaxing weekend.

But the sweet little (competitive as hell) old man is a widower so now as well as feeding him lunch… I’m boxing up leftovers for him to take home.

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Creamy ham and noodle casserole was a hit last week. As was my plate of strawberry crinkle cookies I made the night before and had to post off limits before the husband ate them all.

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I keep telling the guys once summer heat is in full swing the meal train is apt to stop, although the widower’s disappointment is almost palpable. No one wants chicken and dumplings in July… and besides, I’m rapidly running out of crock pot recipes.

🥴

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32 thoughts on “I may have set a dangerous precedent.”

  2. Men don’t care about variety. Serve the same thing every week. No one will complain. But why not sandwiches? Canned soup? Even a salad? Your offerings can be simple, if you let them be.

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    2. For the most part, I agree, except when the men involved come to expect it. That said, the divide between simple and good doesn’t have to be all that wide. My whoop-ass 45 minute chili and cornbread never fails to please.
      Object though she may, I think Riv is very much driven by her pride in this matter. I don’t think she’s got it in her to do anything less than her best. It’s kinda romantic.
      I’m certain we agree that makes her what I call a good one; like me, like you.

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      1. Unfortunately there are dietary concerns with the older gentleman so nothing spicy. I did chili once and he wouldn’t even try it. The other friend is a picky eater and that’s been challenging to work around.
        But thanks for the compliment. I do try to be good.
        😈

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  5. Your such a good cookie (pun intended) and no matter what your going to trying to feed them whether you want to or not. Like you said your hard wired to fed peeps. I showed my boys how to cook, sew, wash their clothes, shave, tune up their cars and iron their clothes. I don’t want to be one of those mom that their daughters in laws blame because their husbands don’t know how to cook, lol.

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  7. The first time, it is a nice gesture. The second time, it is expected. The third time, it is your job. This goes with ANYTHING. That is why my ass NEVER VOLUNTEERS…not for Jack shit. Ever. Lesson learned from the Army.

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  8. As others have hinted (or outright stated), I think you enjoy this situation a bit more than you might be letting on. And I understand. When folks come to Bonnywood, I do the Full On, every time. Lots of tasty food (at least I hope so) and beverages, with every need anticipated and planned out. That’s just the way I am. I firmly believe that guests are guests, and they should be treated as such and not have to worry about a thing.

    On the flip side, it CAN get incredibly annoying when said guests stop showing any degree of appreciation for the fact that I just spent a week making sure their one or two-day visit is pleasant and satisfying. And I end up hating them a little bit, to the point of imagining possibly-harmful things happening to them when they least expect it. But then I get over it and I start planning for the next visit. Guests are guests… 😉

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    1. I have yet to curse them with itchy rashes or fever and to be honest they are appreciative guests. One gave us a $50 gift card to our local pub in a thank you card so he’s spared himself a case of genital warts. And I’m like you, every week I say I won’t do it, yet every week I do. Feeding guests is hardwired in my DNA.

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