Tuesday, September 22, 2009

My King

We are down to our last evening skype sessions. It's like watching the Late Show for Georgia and I, only Felipe is a much better host than Dave. There are puppet shows, house tours (to remind us of what we are missing) and imaginary taste tests. Georgia shares her snacks with Dad and, well, tonight he tried to share his dinner with us. And boy am I glad technology is still limited i.e. the taste remains phantasmic. Because tonight's menu was boiled hot dogs. And even though I was proud he didn't dial a dinner (take out), I couldn't feign enthusiasm for a boiled greyish dog with a line of mustard, housed in a white bun--unless maybe it came from a cart, was at the ballgame, or, had "char-lines" on it from the grill.

Actually, I have never seen Felipe eat a hot dog--not even from famous Nathan's or at Coney Island. But, then again, I never left my husband for a month at a time. And I am feeling bad--even though he's a tad spoiled--for I have happily assumed the homemaker (domestic manager) role. I relish his slightly added girth and gourmet tendencies. And although we aren't food snobbies (have junk food cupboard), I work hard putting together home cooked square meals for Felipe and Georgia. And we'd never eat just boiled wieners for dinner--unless Felipe made them. But that probably won't happen when I get home.

Honey, Cannot wait to get out the pots and pans. xo

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