Rambo. Dear Rambo. How I love you. (If you haven’t read my About Me page, this is my DH so go there and read it!)
We were sitting on the couch the other day, each with our laptops on our laps. DUH! Oh and watching TV. And he mentions wheat grass.
“Did you know you can grow wheat grass in the house?” Translation: We should try this.
“No, I didn’t know that.” Well, actually, yes I did but I have to let him think he knows something I don’t. It helps with the sex later. Ego stroking.
“It’s really nutritional and good for you.” He sounds so excited.
I start laughing. “I hear it tastes like shit. AND we would have to buy yet ANOTHER appliance, a special juicer, to use it.”
Undeterred he says, “We should look at making putting it in a little pot and seeing how it grows.”
Um, yeah. Sure, whatever you say.
All this from a man who will not eat cooked vegetables unless they are in a stir-fry or pureed in spaghetti sauce. The two exceptions are corn and carrots if they are in soup or cooked with a roast. Okay, I did manage to get him to start eating fresh asparagus this past year, but that is because I barely cook them. Green beans? Hell no. Cooked broccoli? Never pass his lips. His idea of vegetables are potatoes and a salad. If we don’t have a meat and potato with dinner, I am trying to starve him. Don’t even get me started on his need for bread. Must be the Italian in him.
And here he is wanting to grow wheat grass.
We have had a small garden each summer with tomatoes, beans and peas (for me and the kids) and cucumbers. A nice small garden that is manageable.
This year? He has gotten a bug up his ass to make our garden bigger. So he rented a tiller and made it bigger. In addition to the normal things, we have potatoes(!), broccoli, garlic (for me), corn, brussel sprouts (for the kids), radishes and carrots.
What do I get out of all this?
Work. He leaves for fishing and leaves me a honey-do list. WTF?!?!!? Really? Plant the broccoli, tomatoes, brussel sprouts, garlic and marigolds. While he is FISHING! I don’t even want to think forward to September. UGH.
Not only that but I have to endure the comments like:
“Are you going to sit in the house reading while I am out here weeding? Don’t you want to help?”
Um. No. There are mosquitos and gnats out there and I swell up like the freakin’ Michelin Man. Now THAT’S attractive.
So wheat grass? I think not. I can’t even get him to try one of my rhubarb strawberry smoothies. And there is no way in hell that I am going to start drinking wheat grass just because he wants to “try it”. And if he can’t stomach green beans….highly doubt his tummy could handle wheat grass.
So here I am hoping that the thought of having to have a special appliance to juice the wheat grass will be enough to deter him.
He’s cheap. And he already hates my 30 appliances that take up my pantry shelves. So yeah. I think I am safe.