confessions of a dinner widow

Mr Husband is an authentic Italian chef – he is from Italy, he cooks Italian food and yes, he is a chef. This is where 99% of new acquaintances in the female category go ‘oooooohhhhh – you are so lucky’. I’m secretly guessing that they are also thinking: ‘aaaahhhh – that explains why you are overweight’ – because they know nothing about big bones.

Yesterday I ran into this “oooohhhh” a total of three times and may not have been the nicest person when responding to number three (even in my world there are only so many times you can say ‘yes, it is really lovely’). The next time someone says: ‘my husband is a chef’ these are the things you need to consider:

  • how many chefs do you think are home for dinner?
  • how many people do you know, who just love to bring their work home?
  • If you had (in this case) Italian food every day at work, would you eat it on your day off?
  • would you even eat at all on your day off?

If I am really lucky, Mr Husband brings home a pizza from work, but only if they had too much dough and only with the toppings that could not go back in the fridge – or the leftovers that would just exactly empty the bowl. Can you feel my excited hurray? Neither can I.

When we lived in Brisbane, Mr Husband did an apprenticeship as a cabinet-maker. After that he worked in the building industry. Those were the glory days my friends, when cooking was fun and thrilling and something he missed. OVER they are. I have to invent dinner for myself every day and popcorn are on the list of options.

SO! Due to a financial crisis, the tourists are not coming to Cairns, which means the building industry boom is over, half the cabinet makers are out of work, leaving Mr Husband with no chance of getting a job, which means he has gone back to cheffing and left his wife an overweight dinner widow.

That’s right! I blame it on the financial crisis!

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12 thoughts on “confessions of a dinner widow

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