T, the man who brought us the next stage in spatially adjustable lawn-hydration devices and harshly worded indictments against the common squirrel has fallen off the green lawn wagon.
That’s right. The man who hand-eradicated every – every! – bit of crabgrass in his backyard and successfully replaced it with lush turf has found a new obsession.
T has discovered his kitchen, and woe to the woman who hopes to some day be unmarred by the seams in her jeans if she shows up when he’s cooking.
“Hey, did you know that you can make pancakes from scratch?”
“What?” I said.
“You don’t have to use a box,” he said. “They have recipes for it!”
“You don’t say,” I said. “Next there will be recipes for soup.”
“Don’t be a smartie. You want some pancakes?”
Pancakes? It’s 8:30 at night!
T’s pancakes, by the way, come with a caramel sauce he “just whipped up” and sliced bananas.
“Oooh, you know what would be good with this? You want some ice cream on the top?”
“Huh?” I said, mopping up the sauce with a fluffy morsel of pancake. “Oh, no, no, no. Leave a girl with a little dignity.”
Last week, T went to a Tastefully Simple home party. Please picture this, a man in cargo shorts, a t-shirt that reads “In Case of Zombies, Remember to Sever The Heads” and combat boots. He has a number of colorful tattoos on his limbs and a shaved head.
T was the only man in a living room full of women, all dipping various home-made breads into little plates of flavored olive oil.
He spent $70.
So far, T’s kitchen notebook holds recipes for pancakes, caramel sauce, mango salsa, a number of grease spots/stains, and various ideas regarding the frying of chickens.
His lawn no longer gets his attention the way it did, but his new hobby is delicious.
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