October 20th, 2013
It’s getting boring, because what my life has become is routine. Today, though, was my husband’s birthday and I didn’t have a gift.
Well, I said that everyone at his temp job was laid off by a polite letter in the mail. Even though the government is back in service no one has been notified or rehired. (They could just drop a letter in the mail again, but no. No one has said a word. It must be a secret.) We are still living on his credit and a loan agency that he’s previously paid off keeps offering to loan him over $4,000. We’ll just put that in the emergency plan. I wished him a happy birthday when he woke up about 6am. About 7am my oldest son had an idea to make him breakfast and I started that and then realized that we had no bread. It was time to improvise. I toasted a hamburger bun, made oatmeal, and 2 sausages. The inside of the hamburger bun did not want to brown. The toaster oven was toasting on a timed setting that would have burned regular bread. I opened the oven with the crispy untoasted bun and smeared butter on it before putting it back in to toast. (Toast, bun! Damn you!) I don’t know what manufacturers do to hamburger buns, but it’s unnatural. After another round of toasting, the buns browned. I took the breakfast to him and explained about the bread. He seemed to understand. That might cause some people to be relieved, but in the back of my mind this worried me. My husband becomes annoyed if anything isn’t right or at least declares it a crisis. Did I say that he’s bipolar? I don’t know if that explains it or not. I played World of Warcraft until my husband left about 11am as he bitterly said that he was going to buy himself a birthday present. Then I played a little longer before going to the local store for a few supplies like birthday candles. I planned to bake a cake, but I don’t know the recipe for candles. Thursday I had invited my dad over here to celebrate and he said he’d come with his family. I don’t know anyone else in North Carolina, so that was it. I told them to come about 4. My dad refused to bring his 100 pound gas BBQ grill over so I figured I’d have to bake the chicken. He refused to stop at the store and bring BBQ sauce when I realized I didn’t have any. I baked the chicken, fried what wouldn’t fit in the baking pan, and did my best attempt at potato salad. I sent the kids to the store for frosting, BBQ sauce, and soda. My husband somehow figured out that people were coming by and asked about it, I said my dad maybe might come come by. At about 3:40 My dad’s wife’s mother came by, but couldn’t make it up the stairs and so called me to send him down. 4pm came and no one else showed up. My husband had said that he’d communicated with my dad and said that he was going to a friend’s house, so they might not be coming. I didn’t let that bother me. I fed the kids and had some myself, but there was something not right about the potato salad. I asked my husband what ingredients go into potato salad. He said eggs, mustard, mayonaisse, potatos, and sometimes relish. Ok, so it was missing a few things. It was about 4:20 and my husband went into freak out mode and decided we needed to have cabbage. We had cabbage, but he can’t make it without bacon, so he ran to the store. Around 4:30 everyone showed up and my husband wasn’t around. They tried the experimental fried chicken, because they didn’t know that I never fried chicken before. Well, it wasn’t entirely on my own, because my husband had started taking everything over and eventually became the host of his own party. While my husband was absent I showed the guests my sorry excuse for potato salad that I hadn’t had time to fix. He returned with bacon and fried it up and cooked cabbage while everyone waited. My stepmother went about fixing whatever was wrong with the potato salad, like adding eggs and relish. When they had all done everything was good. I grew up eating McDonald’s and whatever came out of a can, because my mother had a mental illness. If I saw food cooked it was when my mother had grown so ill that we all had to live with our grandmother. My grandmother cooked everything on high, food was often crispy. Scraping the burn off the toast worked wonders, but that doesn’t work with bacon. So after we ate the food that was added or doctored up, my husband lit his candles, and they sang happy birthday. I say “they” because I wasn’t ready and had told them to wait. I was preparing the camera. I ended up not catching any of that on camera. We served the cake and ice cream. I think I forgot to serve myself a piece and I didn’t have any ice cream either. The guests left and my husband said next time to give him a hint so he can help. I told him that he overhelped and took over. He did say thank you, though.