We had a cookout Sunday night and the combination of perfect weather, good company, extra-lean hamburger, and Rib Candy made it quite memorable. After everybody had eaten his/her fill and gone home, we realized that there were three hamburgers left over. I put them in the freezer, secretly plotting to bend them to my will later this week.
Well, tonight was the night. All day I talked about nouns and pronouns and verbs and interjections and writing a good, solid paragraph, but in my head I was opening the freezer door, putting one of those hamburger patties in the microwave, dousing it with Texas Rib Candy, and devouring it. ALL DAY I thought about it. All day. Sigh.
When I got home, Tim was dozing in his big chair. I tiptoed into the kitchen, reached into the freezer, and put my hand on. . . . frozen peas. WHAT? That’s right. The hamburgers were gone. My husband, who got home a few hours before I did, had found them, nuked them in the microwave, and eaten them. All three of them.
My only consolation was that he hadn’t found the leftover baked beans.
Next time, I’m taking Erma Bombeck’s advice about hiding the good stuff in the freezer, wrapping them in foil, and labeling them “chicken fat.” She says nobody will bother a frozen package labeled “chicken fat.” She might be right.
I tried it once before with Hershey bars, and they were still there when I looked for them later. And as far as I’m concerned, anything covered with Texas Rib Candy is every bit as desirable as chocolate.