Happy Thanksgiving, Belated.

This is what was happening Thanksgiving morning, about 8 AM:

Let me back up and explain. (That isn't our oven in the picture, I just found it because pictures are worth a thousand words.)

Wino and I were asked by his unit on Wednesday to cook a turkey for their Thanksgiving dinner. He agreed, but since I was at work all day Wednesday, it was left to him to actually cook the sucker by himself.

Which he did, and by all accounts his turkey was delicious. It was also, however, extremely juicy. He told me that it dripped into the extremely deep roasting pan and overfilled it, spilling all over the oven floor. But lest you think that's what set the oven on fire, remember - it was only Wednesday.

After a delightful Wednesday evening with friends, we both woke up at about 4 AM Thursday determined to clean the entire downstairs and get a dinner cooked up for our friends coming over for Thanksgiving. So, at about 5 am, I scrubbed out the oven (which was covered in some pretty nasty burned-up turkey drippings) with oven cleaner. This smoked a little, but we got the house aired out, and at 7:45 am, I began to preheat the oven for a pie. Unfortunately, after the house got extremely smoky, we checked the oven... and IT WAS ON FIRE.

Let me reiterate.

We're very lucky people, folks. Wino immediately doused the fire with a fire extinguisher, we called the housing company for the neighborhood we live in, and we had a new oven in our house in two hours. On Thanksgiving.

And then we had to clean the kitchen of that nasty fire extinguisher powder.

So, what do you think it was? The oven cleaner, or the turkey drippings from the day before? We've settled on the third option - the oven was extremely old and was going to go anyways (we've had issues with it for almost a year) and we just gave it the opportunity.

Why I can't take Wino anywhere.

Do you really hate grocery shopping? Not as much as my delightful husband. It doesn't matter how disgusting the kitchen is; he will always opt to clean the kitchen rather than go with me to the commissary. Today, though, I managed to "convince" him to come with me. Also known as whining.

Things my husband does in the commissary:
1. Complains about how fast I walk.
2. Walks really slowly.
3. Eyes every tasty looking thing that isn't on the list.
4. Sighs heavily.
5. Convinces me to pick up things for him (and me) that I would normally never get.

Basically, he's a large, mostly well-behaved child.

Today, he had managed to talk me into getting some nut/fruit/granola mix and a bottle of green tea for him, and a glass bottle of lemonade for me. I was actually a little excited about the lemonade, which is why it will surprise no one that while loading the groceries onto the conveyer belt, Mr. Wino dropped the glass bottle onto his foot, where it shattered.

His foot is, thankfully, fine. Our dignity was bruised pretty hard; almost all the friends I have who work at the commissary witnessed it, and my subsequent sigh of, "THIS is why we can't have nice things!"

So, the moral of the story is that I should probably shop alone.

Caramels and Beer

Mr. Wino and I both have our vices. Mine is anything crunchy and salty - potato chips, pretzels, goldfish crackers, you name it. My dear husband, however, has a beast of a sweet tooth. If we buy a pint of ice cream, I will eat three spoonfuls, and he will devour the rest. He confessed to me recently that he can eat himself sick on his favorite sweet, caramels.

I didn't believe it. So while we were in a Godiva store, we bought some truffles (for me) and a bag of caramels (for him). In four hours, the caramels were gone. I'm still savoring my truffles.

Now that he had proved his addiction, he asked me to not buy them for him. So naturally, I went to Trader Joe's on Wednesday and bought some for him.

Mr. Wino did a really good job that night - he only ate three, then asked me to "hide them". But since I'm pretty sure he could sniff them out anywhere I stuck them, I tucked them right next to my chair. And amazingly, he had the self-control to not go looking for them... but tonight, I pulled them out, and we ate a few, and again he asked me to hide them.

I was determined to find a better hiding spot for them this time. So I sauntered into the kitchen and tucked them somewhere I was sure he wouldn't go looking, then (kind of smugly) sat back down.

A few minutes later:

Him: You know what I'm going to have for lunch tomorrow?
Me: What?
Him: A peanut butter and banana sandwich.
Me: Well, crap!
Him: What?
Me: I have to find a better place for the caramels. I put them between the peanut butter and the bananas! Damn it!

Of course, he laughed hysterically. He's a wizard, y'all.

On a boozy note, we went out to an early dinner tonight at a restaurant/brewery called DuClaw's. They make many very tasty beers, and we sampled a few. I had their Euphoria, which tastes a bit like toffee, and is very smooth. It's my "usual". Mr. Wino had both the Twisted Kilt, a typical Scotch ale that he said was strong but a good choice, and another seasonal, 31º, which was "double spiced" and which we both thought was delicious.

Now we're at home, hanging out with some new books we treated ourselves to. Happy Friday to us all!

P.S. Tomorrow, the Suit Project begins. Dun dun duuunnnnn...

Wine Wednseday, aka Pour Decisions

Aperitif de choix: 2010 Angelini Pinot Grigio Veneto (delicious), 2007 Kestrel Falcon Series Syrah, (more delicious-er) J.K.'s Scrumpy Hard Cider

First off, get yourself a glass of the aforementioned hard cider. Second, hey everyone! Just a quick update, don't have much to talk about tonight. Bottled my various boozes, I'm particularly excited about the stout. The mead will be ready by... December 2012?

Right, well this wine won't drink itself. Cheers!