Spaghetti Sauce; Disgusting Jokes; Love

Spaghetti Sauce; Disgusting Jokes; Love January 23, 2010
I'm sitting on the other side of the table. But that's our kitchen.

As I write this, my wife Cat is in the kitchen making spaghetti sauce.

I just said to her, “Are you feeling saucy?” In response she gave me that look she gives me when she wants to help me understand the wearying depth of her burden.

Anyway, spaghetti sauce! I thought I was going to tell you how we make ours, but how boring would that be? Who doesn’t know how to make spaghetti sauce? A few cans of tomato puree, some bell peppers and mushrooms, two or three cups of steamed Brussels sprouts … and you’re ready to eat!

We put wine in ours. Or we would have, this time, if my wife hadn’t naively left the bottle here on the table right next to me.

But it’s cool; in about a half hour, I’ll just vomit into the sauce.

No, but for real: it’s an exceptionally sweet pleasure for me to be sitting here at our dining room table on a Saturday evening watching my wife cook. She never gets to; for the past 25 years I, alas (what with the stay-at-home-writing thing I do) have been our cook. But of the two of us, she’s by far the more natural (and naturally gifted) cook.

Plus, this moment’s all … old school style. I practically feel like busing out a pipe, having a martini, and real quick buying a dog that I could immediately train to bring me my slippers.

I mean, she’s in the kitchen, cooking, and wearing an apron.

It’s like she died and went to heaven. And took me with her.

Which I suppose will one day be about what happens, either way.

But before then, the whole Domesticity thing we’ve been doing for so long now pretty wholly works.





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  • Laurie McIntyreEngland

    That is cute. But my sauce is better! ha!

  • Latoya

    It’s really great that we dont have to fit into society’s ‘ideal’ family to be happy. 🙂

  • HK

    I always vowed I’d marry a man who cooks. When my husband and I were dating, we struck a deal: he’d cook, and I’d do dishes afterward. It’s worked wonderfully so far. The best part of it is that we each feel that we’ve got the “better” end of the deal, as I’m not fond of cooking, and he’s not fond of cleaning kitchens. Domestic harmony all around! 🙂


  • jennifer

    It is true that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. But even more so that the way is through a man’s eyes as he watches the preparation- seemingly effortless preparation. Its my joy to create a wonderful meal when my husband swears there is nothing to make. Eat my shorts blind man with empty stomach! Maybe someday he’ll learn to look behind the milk.

  • texastee

    “In response she gave me that look she gives me when she wants to help me understand the wearying depth of her burden.”

    I’ve given that look and been given that look. I just didn’t know what it was called.

  • Tammy Lubbers

    "I love cooking with wine. Sometimes I even out it in the food!" Um – is it safe to ask what kind of an apron?

  • Whomever said the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach was aiming several inches too high.

  • My Uncle Walter is 11 years older than me, and back in the 1960s he used to get MAD magazine. I was a small child, he was an adolescent, but he used to give me old issues of the magazine to take home with me. My parents, especially my dad, were scandalized. You have to remember, in the early to mid 1960s, MAD was considered downright subversive

  • Chuck: Good to hear from you! And I saw the comment you left to one of the things I posted on Crosswalk. I appreciated you beginning your as-usual insightful comment with "I don't mean this to you PERSONALLY, John …" Nice.

    But, wait. Didn't you mean to put this comment on the post just AFTER this one—the one with the Don Martin drawing?

    So as a young child you read Mad. So THAT'S how, with you, it all started.

  • Yes, I read MAD when I was a youngster. It warped my widdle bwain.