With the Thanksgiving feast hurtling toward the Mansion this week, Farmer H and I have been trying to clean out the freezer and FRIG II to make room for the fixin's and the eventual leftovers. By cleaning out, I mean that Farmer H has been eating what I pull out of the freezer. We have items in there from when THE PONY was still stabled here!
Yesterday, Farmer H was puttering around over in Shackytown when I went to town to mail a letter for the #1 son at the main post office. He was planning to finish off some pizza left from TUESDAY for his lunch. He said he didn't care what I made for supper (the key here, I'm sure, being what I made) so I told him he could have some gas station chicken left from WEDNESDAY, or mini corn dogs left from when I bought them for The Pony, which would have been pre week of August 15th. Farmer H said that mini corn dogs would be good. Let the record show that I also offered him steamed cauliflower, broccoli, and carrots with a sauce made of melted Velveeta. He declined. "Them corn dogs is enough."
He was still over in town spending money needlessly on Shackytown accoutrements when I prepared his supper. Hm. There were 16 mini corn dogs in the pack. A serving is 4. Farmer H is a grown man. So I made him 8 mini corn dogs, leaving enough for another meal. Cleaning out does not mean that you have to be wasteful. Besides, Farmer H usually makes himself a night-time snack during TV watching.
It being Saturday, we planned to watch the Oklahoma Sooners whoop the West Virginia Mountaineers that night, with a 30-minute DVR delay to zap commercials. And whoop they did, to the tune of 56-28, in a blizzard the first quarter. Anyhoo...when Farmer H came down to the basement to lay on The Pony's cheap couch and watch the big screen, he was empty-handed.
"What? No snack?"
"No. I'm good."
"But you always bring a snack for the game!"
Let the record show that Farmer H always brings a LOUD snack, something that his crunching jaws seem to amplify, and set my teeth on edge, so much that it is all I can do to hold my tongue. In addition, he brings something sweet, though usually a sugar-free sweet, like special cookies, which he will proceed to drop one or two of, and then be unable to find on the braided rug that belonged to my grandma, and is aptly nicknamed The Toenail Rug, and then discover the missing treat, and eat it anyway, toenailness aside.
"I can wait to turn it on if you want to go get something. Or there are chips on the table that The Pony never had time to eat. Unopened. I think they're Lays Biscuit and Gravy."
"No. I'm full. I had some Oberle."
SCREEEEECH that phonograph record, you folks as old as Mrs. Hillbilly Mom!
SCREEEEECH those brakes, you motorheads!
"What do you mean, you 'had some Oberle?' I cooked your mini corn dogs and left them on the stove."
"Oh. I ate them. Then I had some Oberle and cheese with crackers."
"So...you had TWO meals for one? The Oberle was going to be your lunch tomorrow."
"There's still enough left for lunch. I just wanted some Oberle."
"I offered to make you vegetables and cheese!"
"I know. I didn't want it."
Well. You know what was running through my mind, don't you? Since I had not sliced up any Oberle sausage or Oberle cheese.
Did Farmer H actually slice his own second entree...or did he gnaw that sausage and cheese off the ends of their respective sticks?