One of the beautiful things about being so pressed for time these days is that I have an excuse to leave my dirty clothes lying around and crusty dishes in the sink.  These days, Tony follows me around the house picking up after me, and sometimes I leave a trail of partially finished water bottles lying around just to make myself laugh.  Another plus is that Tony now is on his own for most meals.  Even when we are home for dinner at the same time, I rarely cook for him because I am eating twigs and blades of grass so that I can lose weight, and he wantst to eat real meals (go figure). 

 

Last night he decided that he wanted to make tacos.  I sat at the kitchen table with my books and watched him out of the corner of my eye to be sure that he didn’t set himself on fire, and yet I was careful not to insult him by being a back-seat dinner-maker (I’m going to be such a great mom).  He put the pan on the stove, opened the meatless meat grillers, was about to pour them into the pan, and turned to look at me with an expression of sheer perplexity and seriousness:

 

“Do I need to lubricate this first?”

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