I tend to see this as the vista, more preferred. No Alzhiemers. No dementia.
We have very different tastes, the Gom & I. In all sorts of areas.
He likes RED meat. I don't. He loves Red, as a colour. I don't.
We can mostly overcome our differences, & agree to disagree. Certainly about food, ... as a rule.
I cooked a chicken dish, Coq au Vin. A Classic. Which I have cooked, & served, to acclaim, to guests.
Gom's verdict was.... "Bloody awful."
this man obviously has a death wish!
If you have ever cooked a classic dish for someone, & been met with such a response, I wonder how you felt/would feel?
The hurling of food is foreign to my nature. Occasionally, I will be forced out of my comfort Zone.
I was about to say I have never hurled food at the Gom, but I take that back. There was that one occasion, when he wore mashed potato, on his eyelashes, as he blinked-in utter surprise!- & it jiggled in his nostrils, & eyebrows, as they rose & fell in rage. But happy as that image may be to contemplate, it was shortlived. He blinked it all away, & sneered as I cleaned the extras off the cupboard. The joys of early marriage are such treasured memories!!
I would like to think it taught him the limits of my tolerance. But WTH?? He is a man, & they just don't get those warning signs.
On other fronts, I narrowly missed being annihilated under a car, this morning, on the way to Heat/Light therapy. I cursed the slowness of the f***ing driver. I could have been dispatched to the land of the lost! Bugger!
I told the nurse, enquiring of my
feckingnon progress, that I will be divorced before a cure or answer is found. Sympathetic clicking noises were heard from her throat. I had the heat. I left, feeling more inclined to think it some sort of ^$***%&*%%% con!!
Beatles, Strawberry Fields Forever.