My husband plays hockey in an Adult Men’s League on Wednesday and Thursday nights during the summer. Even though his knees prevent him from stopping anywhere close to the puck he loves playing his favourite sport and in your late fifties loving what you do should be your modus operandi
Dinners on hockey nights are usually pasta and veggies with a small amount of protein and a glass of milk. This week with me away and left to his own devices his meals are taking a slow slide into hell.
Friday afternoon on the phone:
Me: Hi Honey! How’s the heat?
Scott: Stinking hot!
Me: How’s my garden? Anything dead?
Me: (slightly suspicious) great…..What you have for dinner before hockey?
Me: Pasta with what?
Scott: Franks Red Hot Sauce. (He had that last night for anyone keeping track)
Me: No veggies?
Scott: Not so much. I had a cracker with peanut butter and some wings at the Bar.
Me: Did you have any fruit?
Scott: I ran out of juice.
Me: And what did you have on Thursday night?
Scott: A cracker.
Me: A cracker? As in one cracker?
Scott: That was all that was left.
Me: There is this place that you go to that has food in it – it’s called a grocery store?
Scott: I was too busy watering the garden.
Me: You have to go and buy some food.
Scott: It’s okay I am going to Ed’s cottage for the weekend. (Ed is a carnivore – I am sure there will lots of meat)
So, as predicted the supplies are swindling and my hunter gatherer isn’t hunting or gathering. Hope he finds the bag of frozen mango in the downstairs deep freeze soon.