Skip to main content

Momma-Koog Went to Market

So, The Wife works out of town and I am left to my own devices during the week. This means I have full responsibility for the house and the feeding of myself and our new puppy, Isaac.

Let's just say, I have a different palate than most. I love beans. Beans, beans, beans. Love 'em. Our pantry is stocked with all types of canned beans. Garbanzo, red kidney, pink kidney, lima, Green, and the list goes on and on. As long as I have my beans and vinegar, all is right in the world.

Needless to say, I don't need to stock or, even open the fridge since my beans are in cans.

Now, Momma-Koog came to visit me and Isaac 2.5 weeks ago. She is Italian and she loves her Koog, so she feeds her Koog.


It is always interesting watching the horror on my Mom's face when she looks at the contents of my fridge. This time was no exception.


Unfortunately, it has been a few weeks since The Wife has been home, so the fridge is feeling the pain. It was chock full of items that had expired at least 3 weeks prior to Momma-Koog's arrival. Being the great Mom that she is, she cleaned out the fridge. When I arrived home that night, she looked drawn and pale. She said there was nothing to eat in the house. Of course, I challenged this assertion. "What are you talking about? We have a whole pantry full."

She proceeded to the kitchen, opened the fridge and, alas, she was right! Besides gourmet mustard, sharp provolone cheese, beer, and BBQ sauces, the damn thing was empty. "How can you live like this?" she asks

I explained my bean addiction and told her we have a pantry full of meals. We could even make 3 bean salad out out any 3 beans she wanted. She was not amused.

So, Momma-Koog went to the grocery the next morning. When I got home, the house smelled amazing. A home cooked meal by a real, live Italian Mom. Heaven.

Maybe there is more to food than just beans.

Thanks, Ma. Isaac, me and The Fridge miss you already.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Grief and Appreciation

(Disclaimer: My thoughts are scattered these days. Trying to put together a coherent narrative is hard. Please be kind with any criticism of my rambling. These are my thoughts and feelings as I’m experiencing them in real-time.) I feel like I’m caught in a rip current of sadness and grief. It’s a funny thing, grief. It’s like an insidious wave of water just waiting to pull me from safety and stability. Lately, everything has become a trigger. EVERYTHING. Songs, leftovers in the fridge, memories, pictures, driving, soccer games, groceries…like I said, everything. We spent last weekend driving to and from upstate NY to return Momma-Koog home after watching the boys for us the prior weekend. I drove E-Koog, Mrs. Koog and Momma-Koog last Friday night. B-Koog, the newly minted Leader of his Scout Patrol, was at a Camporee last weekend. Anyway, we picked up E-Koog from school at lunchtime and got on the road for the 7 hour ride to the 518. About 25 miles into the drive, I bega

Paradise Crushed

Entering Heathrow on our way back to the US from the UK, I’ve started scheming and plotting to get back as soon as possible. Mrs. Koog firmly told me as we boarded our flight home we should pay for the trip we were still ON before buying tickets to return. Her thriftiness is endearing...sometimes. Anyway, fast forward 3 1/2 weeks…Thursday, Sept 14, 2023 to be exact. I had been pleading our return to the UK case since before we were wheels-up at LHR, and I felt like we had moved her toward a "yes." The little Koogs had just left for school and we were watching the Today Show as I checked my work email and sipped my tea. The return itinerary was limited to 3 weeks and was only Ireland (Northern and Republic of) and, of course, my beloved Wales. I was giddy as Mrs. Koog was joining me in finding places to stay around the Emerald Isle, even sending me the VRBO link to a lighthouse for rent on Arranmore Island, where her people are from in County Donegal. Our exchange

Sea Sick

I’m sitting here in the surgical waiting room at Medstar Georgetown University (MGUH). So many of our friends and family offered to accompany me during this vigil. I couldn’t articulate why I needed to be alone, but I just felt like I needed to silently grieve what my wife was losing and I didn’t want to burden anyone with that heavy silence. When I am stressed, I write. Ever since I was a kid, words were always my source of comfort in times of crisis and they were my source of memory in times of fun and excitement. But today, a day when I have such acute feelings of sadness, grief and gratitude, I find I’ve lost my words. I thought about why this was as I wandered (read: got lost) the MGUH labyrinth of buildings in search of food. Finally finding the Chick-Fil-A, grabbing my food and swallowing my tears it hit me. I didn’t lose my vocabulary, there’s just so many layers to the sadness, fear and gratitude it's overwhelming and it's very close to the surface. Arriving at the