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LOL...first off, isnt BigAl, Grannie9s hubby? My hubby is BigDominick....nice Sicilian/Italian name...

And my hubby was so dang spoiled when I married him...his grandmother and grandfather raised him and in some ways, they spoiled him rotten...so did many of his aunts and uncles...I think they all felt sorry for him, because his mom ran off when he was a baby, and his dad was in Heinz veterans hospital for several years following WW11...

In some ways they spoiled him and in other ways they were very strict with him...

However, moan as I often do, I do like to take good care of him...he works usually 11 hours a day on those post office docks at nite, and about once a month, he will have to work a Saturday, so I do try to do as much for him as possible, so he can concentrate on his job...

Hes really a lousy cook tho...one time, when we were living in North Carolina, I had the flu, really bad, and could not even stand the smell of cooking food, without getting nauseated...so the hubby had to cook for the two boys....

I remember getting up out of bed, and peeked in on the boys and my hubby sitting at the kitchen table eating dinner...my hubby seemed to enjoy his own cooking, but the two boys were making gruesome faces, and sticking out their tongues when the hubby was not looking...I took pity on my boys, and quickly whipped them up something more welcome to their palates...

Well, the hubby tried, but he was not successful...a domestic engineer, he is not...

My worst cooking/baking catastrophe happened when I once made some fudge....I made this nice batch of chocolate fudge, ,and after it was set, my younger boy, took a piece...I asked him how it was, and he tried to smile, and answered that it was good, but he thought the chopped walnuts were too salty and made the fudge a 'little' salty...well I tasted the fudge and it was absolutely awful...very, very, salty...a 'lot' salty, not a 'little' salty...

I asked my son, why he wasnt truthful about how awful the fudge was...now bear in mind, this was just a few months after our older boy had died, and I was still pretty raw emotionally...the younger boy, said, that he did not want to hurt my feelings, and he thought if he told me how awful the fudge really was, I would get upset and start to cry...

Bless his heart...he was ever conscious of my feelings during that awful time...

So I guess I had somehow mixed up the salt and sugar, and instead of adding three cups of sugar to the fudge mix, I must have added three cups of salt...YUCK...

But I quickly made another batch of fudge, and made it correctly, for it was delicious...

it tickles me the image
of you sneaking down
and seeing your boys make gruesome faces at daddy's cookin'
when he wasn't lookin'

you are so funny

Dam. I hate it when I screw up like this!
Get more gin, BigLod.

Aplogoies to the Big Dom when he returns home.

This is one I'll not soon forget. Thanks, Mom.

Thanks for the fudge tale...true stories are more
fun than fiction can ever be. Go Dom Go. Get that
motor home rolling. Really soon. Get down to Tuscon.