Tag Archives: Dishes

Different Is Bad

by Richard

There are times I wonder if they will ever change. Ever.

Zippy the Monkey Boy is a young man already, had his 18th birthday and everything. For almost since he could express himself (at the time, by spitting stuff out and all over me), Zippy the Monkey Boy has been a picky eater. I mean, that little dude would instantly know if you were trying to sneak some sweet potatoes by him and would spit them way, way out.

He continued being a picky eater all through elementary school and middle school. By high school, he’d made some changes and was willing to try new things like fish.

However, I noticed, that he was only willing to try things that were completely new. He would not try anything that was a variation on something he already liked. I thought that was long past, though.

But I was wrong.

Late last week, I was in the kitchen improvising a dinner. One of the favorite dishes in this house is a peanut chicken and noodles. I normally use a specific type of Asian noodles. This time, though, I didn’t have that kind of noodles. And I had beef slices for stir fry, not chicken.

Still, I thought, it sounded like a good mix.

And I continued to think that, even if I was alone in that while cooking.

“Change is bad, Dad,” Zippy the Monkey Boy told me repeatedly after he asked what was for dinner. “You know I don’t like change.”

He kept up that refrain for the hour it took to finish dinner. He kept it up as I forced him to sit down at the table and start eating.

At which point, he shut up, only opening his mouth to put in more of the peanut beef and noodles. And then he finished his broccoli, got up and helped himself to another serving.

Hyper Lad, too, scarfed down a big helping, despite having mixed feelings about the change before he started eating.

I tried not to be too smug, but it was hard. I kept wanting to tell him, to tell them both, “I told you so,” but I managed to keep myself restrained.

I did tell them I was glad they liked it and, in return, I got a scowl from Zippy the Monkey Boy.

“It worked out this time, Dad,” he said. “But don’t try it again on any other meal. Change is bad.”

And I have to wonder, will they ever change?

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Love + Marriage + Health: It All Adds Up

by Richard

You know, a lot of dudes make fun of being married. Go see almost any stand-up comic and you’ll hear jokes about how horrible his wife is to him, or what a drag it is being married, or how many pillows he has to keep on his bed.

Not that we’d ever resort to that sort of thing around here. No, sir. Not no way. Not no how. She Who Must Be Placated By Instant And Obsequious Obedience would never allow it.

heh

The bad news for all you unmarried dudes out there, who feel so superior because you can go out to a bar any night of the week and sleep with as many women as you want whenever you want and only have one pillow on your bed and not have to clean the dishes in the sink. . . and have to come home to a dark apartment and cook a TV dinner for one and watch in the dark, lit only by the flickering blue of a reality television rerun.

It turns out marriage is good for us dudes.

From our friends at Frugal Dad, we have the following infographic. Give it a look. I think you’ll enjoy it. If you’re married and want to feel pretty healthy and good about your life.

If you’re not married, well, here’s a link to a picture of a cute ‘lil bunny to make you feel better.

love helps infographic

Source: http://FrugalDad.com

 

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In The Land Of The Armless, The One-Armed Man Is King

by Richard

To quote Mel Brooks, “It’s good to be the king.” Or at least it would be if I really were in the land of the armless. Unfortunately, I’m in the normal land here where most everybody has two arms, two hands and can actually get stuff done.

Yep, you guessed right. It’s time for a whine-fest.

It’s been almost two weeks since I had my shoulder operated on and I’m already getting very, very, very tired of walking around with one arm in a sling, strapped to my body. My right arm is basically useless. I’ve been told I can’t even hold things with my right hand because I don’t want to strain the newly repaired muscles and tendons in my shoulder.

I never realized how much I actually do during the day until I couldn’t do any of those things.

I have to get help from my young dudes to tie my shoes. Zipping up is a monumental task. Putting on deodorant requires a few acts of contortions that would strain the credulity of India rubber men at the freak show. I can’t even wash dishes.

See, the thing is I know I have ADD. I can’t sit and do just one thing. If I’m watching TV, I’ll also need to read a book at the same time because I can’t just watch. During most evenings, I will be doing stuff in the kitchen while also keeping an eye on the TV or something similar. Now I can’t.

TV, by itself, is just so boring.

Sitting at the keyboard to write is a chore now. I have to type so very slowly. By the time my fingers have hunted-and-pecked their way to being even with my brain, my brain has moved on and forgotten what I was writing about in the. . .

Still, I can’t get too annoyed. I know I will get the use of my right arm back. Eventually. I’m a lot luckier than a lot of people who are learning to adjust to life with only one arm.

Still. . .

Still. . .

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