I am heading home today, looking forward to seeing my family again in a few hours. I was surprised on Sunday when Candyman sent me a blog post….the third he’s written on the blog since I started blogging in 2007. I’m guessing that he will be just as happy (or happier) to have me back home as the kids.
As the husband of a very busy blogger, I feel like I don’t hear very much about the lives of the men behind these women.
So, here is my story.
As Lolli prepared for her 3rd or 4th or whatever trip that is she is taking just this year (Florida), I looked at my schedule to see where I would need to adjust things.
AJ and Reese go to school about 8:30 and I usually head out the door early on the days I work outside the house.
The week was going fine until late Saturday afternoon. We had finished a fun day at Bar-T Mountainside’s Earth Day. We stopped at Home Depot to pick up some flowers and a few other odds and ends. Then, we picked up milk and cereal for Sunday and grabbed a couple burgers on the way home for my two hungry kids.
Problem one began with me forgetting to ask for “no mustard” on the cheeseburger. Problem two – forgetting to ask for “cheese” on the cheeseburger. 5 minutes of AJ crying later, I was less than a happy camper.
Fortunately, the excitement of planting the flowers was enough to distract AJ when we got home; that and a Nutty Bar. After we got home, I heated up the cheeseless cheeseburger and added cheese. AJ had no interest by this point, so I ate it myself.
As the planting began, we discovered some wild onions growing in the pots on the front porch. Now, let the real problems begin.
For those of you who don’t know me, I am, have been, and will forever be 50% white collar and 50% redneck.
I grew up in Tennessee drinking from fresh springs in the woods and swimming in the creeks. I never went to a public swimming pool as a kid, except once in a hotel. I thought that swimming pools were associated with wealth, and we had neither.
On the other hand, I have worked for very powerful people, had dinner with U.S. and foreign heads of state, traveled the world including China, Cuba and Saudi Arabia and I watched the 1991 Soviet coup from the ground in Moscow.
I have not lived a sheltered life.
So, back to the onions…
We found 2 nice onions growing in the pots. I told AJ that you can eat those and they actually taste quite good. Some wild onions have a very mild flavor. I used to eat them as a kid all the time (the redneck side of me).
AJ decided it was worth a shot. He took one bite and spit it out. I, on the other hand, took the bigger of the two onions, cleaned it up and dipped it in sea salt. I enjoyed it very much and was once again proud of my redneck roots which had afforded me a free snack from the wilderness of our townhouse community.
As I began making a late dinner of ham fried rice (about an hour later), I started feeling a little weak in the stomach shall we say.
Fast forward about 3 hours. As I am leaning over the toilet, throwing up, I am not sure if it is the onion or the cheeseburger. It sure felt like the cheeseburger, but the smell of the onion coming up my throat had me wondering.
Prior to my toilet hugging, I got online to check on wild onions and sure enough, every post said they were safe to eat. So, I will never know if it was fast food or fast growing onions that did me in.
The upside of this story is that I was able to call for my two older girls (Kit Kat and Necco) to come upstairs and finish cooking the ham fried rice as I lay on the couch wishing I were a little less redneck (maybe only 12-13%).
Our kids have a fun, but strange ritual of trying to be the first person to say “thanks for dinner”. There are a few unwritten rules of this game. You can’t say it until everyone is sitting down and eating.
As I lay on the couch with a pillow over my head blocking out the light, I heard those familiar words from Twizzler, Reese and AJ. “Thanks for dinner Necco”. “Thanks for dinner Kit Kat.” It was a sweet sound.
So much sweeter than wild onions.
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