Chili Contest? OK.
Her: (getting into bed)
Me: (leaping into bed)
Her: Oh, you’ve clearly misread the situation.
We’ve been together now for over four years and have a kind of seasonal rhythm . When the weather gets cold, we end up huddled at home for most of Fall and Winter and start to head out again in Spring. Nothing special, really. Suppose most people are like that. It’s just how it is.
But when spring does come, she’s generally more responsive to it than I am. I’m usually still shaking the cobwebs out. Unless there’s chili or rum involved.
To wit:
Her: I’m meeting up with some friends in New Jersey next month.
Me: I’m not sure if…
Her: There’s a chili cookoff…
Me: I’m in.
So this past weekend, hopped onto the PATH train and headed out to Grove Street in Jersey City.
An ex lived there so I took the train there dozens of times in the past but I’d not in ages. Walking upstairs, everything had changed but was still the same. It’s just how it is.
A buddy from my wrasslin class lived spitting distance away so we met up too, spoon in hand, and tried 25 different chilies. Once it was over, we went back for more. I may have gone back a third time. Or fifth. Don’t recall.
He and I both agreed that we liked our own respective recipes more; having a recipe is one of the 15 things I think every guy should know.
The wife and I took the train back and were home before five.
Her: I’m always glad when we head out early and come back early. (looking me sprawled out on couch) What’s wrong with you?
Me: (mumbling) Food coma. Tired.
Location: about to run to wrassle
Mood: hungry
Music: I am yours
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.
Related articles
