He refused to leave the house all Saturday, so he could monitor and tend to his meat. He kept telling me about the endless possibilities for recipes. I think he's going to do salmon next. I kept wondering if the neighbors were worried about the smoke smell.
Gllen got it up his butt that he wanted to make his own beef jerky. Cue the internet research. Fast forward two hours. Gllen emerges from his office and asks me, "Want to go on an adventure?"(Now, when Gllen asks this kind of question, it is similar to Gozer asking if you are a God...)
Gllen had found the only store in the Twin Cities that carried the highest rated electric smoker. We journeyed to Maple Grove, home of the sacred Lowes.
When we arrived home, Gllen could barely contain his glee. He immediately began unpacking the smoker and stroking each piece that came out of the box. I sat and grinned at him, trying to commit to memory all the things he was saying... Here's a sampling:
"Are you going to be a good smoker and smoke me some meats? Yeah, you are."
"Oh! It's like a cabinet... A cabinet of MEAT."
"It has a latch, Growly! A latch to keep things secure!"
And then, of course, the evil-villain-with-a-plan laughter and brief periods of hyperventilating.
Gllen was in a crabby mood today.
He went out this morning to get some money and hunt for his lunch. As he left, he still wasn't sure which fast food place he wanted to go to.
Fast forward to when I heard him come home. He had a bag of beef jerky. No lunch. He saw me enter the room and fled to his office. I followed, puzzled. As I sat down to talk to him, he started making monster noises that indicated that he was mad. No words were spoken, but plenty of growls and hisses and a solitary burp.
After much coaxing, I got him to tell me what was wrong: He was mad because he didn't get lunch. "Well, why didn't you get some?" I asked.
He growled again but finally told me, "I went to Baja Sol and the parking lot was full. So I went to D'Amico and that parking lot was full. So then I decided to go to Chipotle, but as I passed Baja Sol again, I noticed some parking spaces were open. But by the time I turned around, the lot was full again. So I just went home."
"Well," I pondered, trying to figure out a way to make him happy, "I could heat up some of the soup your dad sent you home with."
He curled back his lips and shook his head. "Now I'm too full of beef jerky."
I just stared at him and then left the room. Some causes are just lost.
