Rave or Rant

I’ve been pretty lax on this self-imposed September to Remember blog challenge, but I couldn’t miss out on the chance to blog about Brenty boo. As he so loves to be called.

Instead of ranting about B, I decided to compose a list of little habits, his peccadillos, if you will, that I so enjoy after all these years together. How I love thee, let me count the ways.

-How whenever he eats something hot, temperature or spicy, his nose starts running almost immediately

-How he knows that since I hear feedback regarding my food all day, his lips are sealed when he eats whatever I make him; I can’t get so much as a “mmmmm” out of the guy

-How he has a handful of stories and anecdotes he likes to tell over and over again b/c they just get better w/ every retelling

-How he refuses to throw any food out –the carton of expired milk w/ barely enough left for a bowl of cereal, the empty mayo container except for one swipe remaining along the rim, the bottle of salad dressing that’s so old it’s thickened into an unrecognizable goop– like he’s some old world depression survivor

-How he leaves his computer bag slung over a kitchen stool every night b/c he knows how much I love it cluttering up the kitchen and how much enjoyment I get from washing his lunch containers

-How he refuses to have any duplicate orders when we eat out, so he likes to keep what he’s getting to himself so I don’t “steal” it from him and then he has to order some lesser entrée

-How he is so adverse to sharing food or letting me try a bite/taste/morsel of whatever his dish is, he’s gone so far as to cover his plate w/ his arm like the kid in first grade who doesn’t want anyone cheating off his paper

It should come as no surprise that almost all of these involve food. When my two loves –Brent and food–are on the line, feelings tend to run high.