Tiger update

GRIN #433

Man, I’m getting bad about posting. I apologize for that. I have a whole list of GRINS I want to blog about, but paying work is keeping me busy–a very good thing, indeed.

We’ve also been traveling quite a bit lately and those trips have reminded how annoying feeding the “Tiger” can be.

The Tiger is my husband, who, because of hypoglycemia and a freakish love for intense exercise, has to eat about every 90 minutes to two hours. Normally, the Tiger is at work and he deals with this by purchasing and consuming whole chickens in one sitting. No one believes me when I talk about how much he eats until they see it in person.

Back in January, in Florida, each morning I’d just make as many peanut butter and jelly sandwiches as I could and stuff them in the backpack. It worked at Legoland, but at Seaworld, the staff searched the pack at the gate and threw them away.

It was only 10:15, and the Tiger was already looking weak. This is always how it begins. Then he starts moaning and groaning and sweating. Unsympathetically, I usually say something like, “Oh, for God’s sake! We just ate!” We ended up buying the Tiger an all-you-can-eat pass the two days we were there. He wore that thing out; I think the food staff actually shuddered when they saw him coming.

I find myself daydreaming sometimes about donating poundage to the Tiger. Like instead of a kidney or something. And some magazine would do a write-up about what a generous, loving wife I am.

On that note, wouldn’t that be fantastic if we could donate pounds to those in need? Can you imagine the charitable women all over the U.S. elbowing each other out of the way and screaming at one another? I was here first! What a great reality show that would be, with instantaneous “before” and “after” pictures.

But I digress, in other Tiger news:

• A neighbor donated a 20-lb bag of Basmati rice that her husband wasn’t crazy about, and the Tiger is steadily working his way through it. I make him a cup and he pours in a can of black beans, cheese, grocery store chicken and hot sauce. That’s one feeding, usually at 9:30 a.m. Yeah, I said “a.m.” The bag looks like something the United Nations would have on hand for foreign aid, but whatever.

• The Tiger is now highly suspicious of eating at “Tapas” restaurants, which he learned about in Florida. “Tapas” is Spanish for “small plates” where people pass the plates and share the dishes.  At my suggestion, we went to a Tapas place while on vacation. “Why are you ordering so many things?” the Tiger asked. “Because we’re supposed to share,” I explained. Then the food came. “Share what?” the Tiger asked. “There’s not enough here for even one person!”
• Sweet Tomatoes, a local chain with a huge salad bar and a selection of soups, breads and pastas, has been blacklisted. “I don’t get this place. Where’s the meat?” the Tiger asked, sounding like the little old lady in the hit Wendy’s commercial from the 80s. I reminded him, “You don’t have to eat meat at every meal.” Of course, that fell on deaf ears; the Tiger thinks vegetarians become vegetarians simply to be annoying. That’s probably politically incorrect, but there it is.  
• I discovered the Tiger’s vast collection of hot sauce could be keeping him thin; I read somewhere that people who consume a lot of hot sauce burn fat faster. I’m tempted to dump the Tiger’s collection, but then hed have nothing to mask the taste of my cooking. In a cost vs. benefits analysis, I decided that would just create more problems than it solves.

Anyway, that’s all for now. I’m down to a half-roll of toilet paper and still have to grab something for dinner.

I’ll just get a grocery store chicken. Or three.