Back in the saddle

GRIN # 406

You’ll forgive me, won’t you? For not having written? I ducked off to the beach for a week for a writing-free break with my extended fam.

I took it seriously, too. I wouldn’t even write in the guest book at the house we rented.

But much blog fodder was gained during that time and at least one thing proved. My family finally believes me when it comes to the Tiger, my forever-eating and ultimately insatiable husband.

In a fit of hunger after a golf game with my brother-in-law, the Tiger ate nearly a whole pan of baked ziti, intended for dinner the following night. The remains were discovered by my sister.

“Who ATE all of this?”  she asked.

“The tiger,” I answered simply. I’d seen it happening, sighing as he returned from the kitchen a second time, his plate piled high with noodles, cheese and beef. He was a happy man indeed.

I didn’t have the heart to stop him–even though he was eating a meal for eight.

“Well, now, what are we going to do?”

I shrugged: See? See what I endure?

Same problem, different day. Whateva.

Pizza saved the day, as it always does.

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