Santa's Been

I must have been a very good boy this year.

Can I unwrap my present?

Winding Down

Only 36 hours to go, then I'll be winging away to the land of unfriendly people, congested roads, unpleasant weather and gangsters.
Luckily I'll only be in Auckland for a couple of hours before we set of for LAX.  Definitely not looking forward to the 32 hours stuck in a confined space, packed with irritable and angry people.  Just like being back at school.
I'll try and put up some posts while I'm over in the UK, but my beloved will be in full "Machine of Satan" mode, so it might be a little tricky.
I'm sure that Richard [of RBB], The Curmudgeon et al will be keeping you all amused, and I look forward to reading all the crap interesting posts when I come back.
My beloved is focused on cooking the Christmas dinner at the moment, which is how I've got time for this.  She is decidedly tetchy at the moment for some unknown reason, but I will have my revenge.  I've got her a Christmas present from heaven.  It will fulfil a long felt want (Frankie Howerd joke here) and make her the happiest lady in NZ, for at least a wee while.

A very happy lady

More anon.

Just to keep you interested, here are what I think were the best posts this year.(Not all mine)

The amateur dramatic show
Men are always wrong
Computers are bad
The FBI
The FBI again
Trikes are Cool

Have a lovely Christmas and a Guid New Year. (This is not a misspelling, it's traditional Scots.  So there)

Summer

I feel that summer has really arrived.  Last night, even though it was a bit windy, the wind was very warm, I was outside in just shorts and T-shirt at 9pm, and it was quite pleasant.  Unfortunately, it looks like the trip to Scotland is still on, so I'll be saying goodbye to the blue skies and gentle airs of Aoteroa, and hello to the grey slush and freezing winds of Caledonia.

I've lived now in NZ for 7 years, and now consider it my home, I don't want to return to Scotland, but my familial responsibilities demand it.  Summer in Scotland is different and I was trying recently to describe to an old friend in Scotland what the differences were.  I didn't do a very good job when I was speaking to him on the phone, and I think a better way would be simply listing the main impressions each type of Summer made on me.

Summer in Scotland:
Warm winds
Warm sunshine
Midges (small biting fly)
Ham salads
Fluffy clouds
Busy beaches
Sandals and socks
Grey seas
Cold beer
Strawberries
Very long days and sunlit evenings until about 11pm
Electric mowers trimming green lawns
Packed roads
Ice lollies (Ice blocks)
Picnics
Fish and chips on the esplanade
Cool Irn Bru

Summer in Aoteroa:
Hot winds
Burning sunshine
Sandflys
Avocados
Cherries
Extraordinarily vivid blue skies
Empty long beaches
Deep blue water
Cold Chardonay/Sauvingon Blanc
Bright mornings
Petrol mowers trimming brown grass
Easy driving
Ice cream (Hokey Pokey - Thanks Bin Hire)
Barbecues
Chilly bins
Fish and chips on the esplanade
Cold  L & P
Flowering Pohutikawas
Jandals (Thanks Bin Hire)

Please add your iconic summer items to either list via the comments.  I'll add them to the main list, so my friend in Scotland can see them.

Church

Now don't get excited Second, I have absolutely no intention of going to Church. I only mention it because my beloved has started her annual campaign to get me to go.


Every year at Christmas, she and my son go off to the local god-bothering centre for an hour of hymns and intensive god-bothering, leaving me at home to stew in my agnostic/atheistic juices, and enjoy a large single malt (Tobermory 10 year old this year)

I enjoy this time alone. I can watch the TV, blog on the PC or best of all, read a book without any disruption.

Total Immersion

One of the best things about holidays is the incredible pleasure of long, extended periods of uninterrupted book reading, where the plot and characters become real, where you can become completely involved in the world the book creates. I can do it, my beloved does to a certain extent, but my son can't. He can read, and read well, but he doesn't get immersed. Sad.

The first time it really happened to me was when I was 21. I'd always liked books, and one of my presents was a book voucher. I'd recently read "The Hobbit" and quite enjoyed it, but I thought it a bit simplistic, more of a children's book. One of my friends at work had told me the Lord of the Rings was much better, so I bought a copy with the voucher.

For 3 days I did nothing but read. It was a long weekend and I started on the Friday afternoon when I got home from the book shop. I lived in the world of Frodo, Bilbo and Gandalf. I only stopped for toilet breaks and food. I almost cried, and certainly felt depressed after I finished LOTR.

I haven't been able to repeat that feat, as I've got a lot more responsibilities now, and I can't afford 3 continuous days of reading, but every opportunity I have, I return to the magical world of books.

So I'll be reading when the rest of my family are off god-bothering. I know who's got the better deal. Maybe I'll get another bottle of malt just in case. Talisker sounds good to me.

That's the only spirit I believe in.

Snow Sucks

We were supposed to jet off from sunny NZ to cold, freezing Scotland on Christmas Day, but the huge snowstorms which have closed Heathrow and other European airports has thrown a spanner in the works.

It is now extremely doubtful if we're going to get away on time, if at all.  Air NZ is now warning their passengers that if they choose to fly (we're going via LAX) then Air NZ will not be responsible for any accommodation or other help if we get stranded half-way.  They are offering a refund on the tickets, which is I suppose quite reasonable, but I want to see my daughter and my Dad.

We'll just have to wait and see, but the latest news from Heathrow doesn't look too good; they're saying that any delays will continue well past the 25th.  Bugger.

How is it every year the UK gets caught out.

Minister of Transport thinking "What's that white stuff"

Every year that it snows, the powers that be look up and say, "What's that funny white stuff?" and the whole of the UK comes to a grinding halt.
Cars, buses, trains and now aeroplanes.

You think they'd learn that heavy snow =  transport chaos.

Airports in Norway, Sweden, Finland and even Russia are managing to stay open, but not good old blighty.  The spirit of Colonel Blimp is alive and well, "Don't worry Lads, we'll muddle through somehow".

Well they haven't

Here's a nice picture to cheer me up.

Can I open my present now?

Ferrero Bloody Rocher

Really crap chocolate

I am sick and tired of these bloody adverts for this tasteless ball of chocolate, wafer biscuit and nuts.

Is it delicious?  No
Is it sublime?  No
Does it fill the mouth with an increadible richness?  No

It's a small chocolate covered biscuit with some added nuts.

The only reason it sells is because hundreds and thousands of mindless consumers allow their brains to be swamped by the (admittedly) high production value adverts.  Which still get it wrong.
When did Odysseus visit Mt. Olympus?  Never.

The next person to offer me one is going to be asked the simple question.
"Does your rectum have taste buds?"  and then I'll do a practical experiment to find out.

I'd far rather have a rich, mouth-filling chocolate truffle.

Merry Bloody Christmas.

Resting

It's been a week since I went on holiday from school, and it's only now that I am starting to feel a bit rested.
My body and brain still insist on getting up at 5:30am, as I have been doing all year, but yesterday, for the first time, I managed to go back to bed and have more sleep.

Even as I type this, I feel the call of the warm bed, the soft mattress and my gently snoring beloved.  Awww, she drools so prettily onto the pillow. 

Pain free

Yesterday was the first day she has been pain-free for the last two weeks.  I refused to allow her to do any work at all.  I even made dinner.  Actually, I quite enjoyed it.  I made a chicken casserole, with leeks, garlic and plenty of carrots.  I mixed the chicken with sesame oil, soy sauce, flour and turmeric in a plastic bag, and let it sit for 30 minutes.  Browned the diced chicken in a mixture of oil and butter, deglazed with some white wine, then added in some leeks, softened in oil, and the diced carrots.  Sliced some courgettes lengthwise, and fried in Olive oil.  Served with some boiled new potatoes (mine had butter on them, but none for her)

I quite enjoyed it, but from the non-enthusiastic comments of my beloved and son (back last night from Hawkes Bay) it wasn't as good as we are used to.

I don't really care, my priority is to get my beloved as pain free as possible, because when we get on that plane next week, I know she will suffer if her back is the least bit painful.

Joys of Air Travel

I'm going back to bed, for at least another hour of blissfull sleep.

Over 13000

Who would have thought that just 6 short months ago, as I started this very self-indulgent habit of blogging, that I would reach over 13000 views.

I am very happy.

Thank you for all your support, but I am curious.

Who's been looking at the archives. The post on the ABC of England which I posted in November has been looked at more than any other.

Come on, 'fess up, who's been peeking?

The First Weekend of Freedom

And I'm still bored.

I managed to fix that technical problem at school, and I stayed around doing some little jobs. Back home, looking forward to a day of....nothing.

Maybe some vacuuming and wrapping presents. It's wet outside, so that's a big no to gardening.
I've got one unread book left, so I'll have to ration it carefully.
Unlike The Curmudgeon, my beloved is here all day, so no fry-ups, no hitting the vino, and probably no use of "That Satan-spawned electronic mistress", my poor inoffensive computer. (Shhh my darling, she doesn't really mean it. Don't worry, I'll give your fans a good clean later)

I could sit down with some pen and paper and write out all the evidence for the existence of God, but that would only take about 5 seconds.
Then I could write a list of things which tend to show that God does probably not exist; but then I'd be writing for the rest of the day.

I could write a list of all the things I like about my life here in not-so-sunny Aoteroa, and compare it with the my previous existence in Grim (and currently deep-frozen) Caledonia.

I could browse the web(before my beloved wakes up) and find a funny video to share with my friends. Yes I'll do that. Don't worry TC et al, no guns or boobs this time.

Bored

Bored

I can't believe it.
It's been less than 24 hours since I've really been on holiday from the education factory, and I'm bored.

It's gently drizzling, so I can't go out into the garden.
My beloved's at home all day, so I can't get sloshed.
I've read every book in the house, some two or three times.  I can't buy a new one, just in case I get it as a present on the 25th.
The library has 8 books on hold for me, but they haven't come back from the previous borrower yet.  Read faster you bastards.
The TV programs are either stupid, crap, really crap, mind-blowingly inane or repeats.

The real reason my beloved does not like compuiters

The computer is out-of-bounds because my beloved's going through another "The computer is the Devil's Device" phase, and I really don't want to start Christmas with a fight.  Just for a change.
My son has come home and the signs do not look good.
The signs indicate that he's going to move back in with us.  His flat in Wellington seems to get a bit hot and airless in summer, and he can't sleep very well.  It's nice to have him back for Christmas, but I was getting used to just the two of us.  Our routine was established, and it was pretty comfortable, now it'll change again.

It's so boring, I'm going to vacuum the carpets. Again.
[edit]

I'm not bored anymore.  A nice friend noticed my plight, and sent me this link to a You Tube video.

Cheered me up no end.

I think I'll share it with you all.

Finished

Mandatory Party Protective Gear

I tidied out my office yesterday, so the new arriving DP can take it over.  I need a place I can work that is close to the staffroom, so when I'm setting relief I can communicate quickly with our staff.  I also need a computer,printer and room to store all the relief work.

I thought that a new office was going to be built next to our Business Manager's office for her assistant, which would then free up an office for me.

This is not to be, well not immediately at any rate.  Several staff have expressed their misgivings about spending money unnecessarily during these financially tight times, so the whole thing is going to be delayed, and I'll be using the meeting room next to the school office, at least for Term 1.

This might not sound like a big thing, but I hate the uncertainty of it all.  I've got enough to do without this hastle.

The school was lovely and quiet without the kids and there were quite a few staff in, tidying up and preparing for next year.  I did pick up a juicy piece of gossip. On the last day of school, after the prize giving and the staff farewells, about 30 or so staff stayed behind socialising and winding down.

Staff, partying hard

 Our excellent Social Committee had bought in many cases of wine for our enjoyment, and it was great to see everyone relaxing and enjoying themselves.  I left about 5pm, and the party still had plenty of life.  Seemingly, as the party finished, some of our staff took some wine with them.  I'm not talking about a few opened and half-empty bottles, which nobody would have minded, but about 4 dozen unused and sealed bottles of Lindauer sparkling, worth about $15 each.  They were spotted on the CCTV system, and were I think, asked to refund the committee's funds or return the vino.  Bit silly really, and to be fair, a bit greedy.

Synchronised Swimming

Ever since the Olympics introduced Synchronised Swimming as an event, I wondered what type of person would want to do it.  Apart from the idiots calling it a sport, it must be decidedly unpleasant to participate.
With your head under the water for a goodly portion of the performance, water up your nose and in your ears, trying to keep your breathing timed to your surfacing must be difficult.
But why?
Are you trying to go faster?
Are you trying to go deeper?
Are you trying to be more graceful?
No.
You're just trying to be exactly the same as everyone else in your group.
What's the bloody point?
It must be the most boring and irrelevant "sporting" pursuit.

I met an ex-member of the NZ Synchronised Swimming team at the weekend.
She seemed almost normal.  No mad gleam in the eyes, no gills.  Quite ordinary really, though quite pretty.

When she told me of her participation, I felt quite proud of myself.
I didn't give a belly laugh of derision, nor did I snort in snide amusement. 
I just smiled, and said (lying) "How Fascinating".  I did say she was quite pretty, and like most men, I find it difficult to be rude or offensive to pretty girls.

She seemed keen to tell me more, but my beloved, who was sitting next to me gave me the subtle dig in the ribs I have come to love and expect. 
About two broken ribs worth of love I would judge.

I just sat quietly for the rest of the meal doing what every married (or partnered) man does in that situation  I fantasised about this pretty girl in a skin-tight swimsuit doing all sorts of synchronous activities.

Synchronised tea-making.
Synchronised vacuuming.
Synchronised dusting.
Synchronised car washing.

All in the gleaming skin-tight swimsuit.

My beloved had to give me another elbow in the ribs (Mach 2.5, I judged, grunting in pain) to remind me it was about time to leave.

I still think it's a bloody silly "sport" though.

Almost as silly as Solo Synchronised Swimming.  I mean to say, which fucking moron thought that one up.
Synchronised with what?
Move your left foot at the same time as your right foot. 10.0  10.0  10.0  10.0
My daughter could do that at age 3.

Solo Synchronised Swimming
(So difficult)

Richard's Special

He's Special

Yes he is.
We had our end of year prize giving, and Richard [of RBB]'s proteges performed .
We had 3 sets, each (I think) by a different group, and they were great.

Thanks for putting all that effort into our kids, Richard[of RBB], it certainly showed, especially with the middle set. That guitarist was brilliant.  So was Daryl on Saxaphone, and of course yourself on Trumpet.

Well done.
We do appreciate you.  Even if you don't get much support from the SLT.

Knickers

Real Knickers

No, this is not a spurious title giving me an excuse to post pictures of unclothed young ladies. I don't need an excuse.


I'm talking about the different approach Men and Women have to underwear.

Funny pictures, broad elastic, good absorption

Guys wear pants/boxers/y-fronts etc. to protect their vulnerable and sensitive areas from friction, to absorb any bodily fluids/solids which might escape during manly farting and to soak up any late-release pee caused by an enlarged prostate. We want solid reliability, comfort, resilience, good broad elastic, high absorption ratios and if at all possible, funny pictures. We do not want lace, frills, see-through panels, gaps, elastic waistbands and never, ever, sequins.

Lace AND frills

Gaps

Ribbons AND sequins

How much would these soak up?  about 1 ml.

I know about these things. I'm a man. I've been buying my underwear for 5 years. I'm in my late 50s, but 5 years is the length of time between my Mum buying my keks, and my Beloved buying my keks. But they knew what I wanted.



I am completely lost when it comes to buying panties for my beloved as a Christmas present.

As soon as a guy walks into these shops, or even the specialised area of a department store, he can feel the disdainful looks of every woman in the area, plus hear the barely audible giggling emanating from the sales assistants.

Why on earth would women want to wear such things? They're completely impracticable. They're diaphanous, glittery, full of holes, trimmed with lace, in awful colours and amazingly expensive. But we're stuck. It's just a little stocking filler, but I can just see her face if I bought her a pair of Jockey shorts a la Dan Carter. No, these have to be appropriate. So I'll go for the purply-pinksh colour trimmed in a sort of a puce lacy stuff. I know she'll like it, because the smiling sales assistant said so. But it didn't have any funny pictures on it. It's a mystery.

Where's the funny pictures?

It's also a mystery why they're referred to as a pair of panties. I'm only buying one, so why a pair?



Ah the peculiarities of the English language; ever a joy.

Simple Joys

What our friend got for her 80th Birthday

Yesterday, we went to a friend's 80th  Birthday Lunch.  She had arranged a large table at SOI restaurant in Wellington, at Evans Bay.  It was a very civilized method of celebration, good food and drink (I only had 1 beer as I was driving) no mess, all washing up taken away.

What Hugh Hefner got for his 80th Birthday (life sucks sometimes)

Because my beloved's back was still pretty sensitive, we didn't drive there in my FWD, but took her little MX5 instead. (It hurts her back climbing up into my rather chunky Isuzu).
As it was a warm, almost hot day, we put down the top.
As her back was sore, I drove
Yippee.

Racing (within the speed limit of course) along in an open sports car, on a warm and sunny day is a joy.  With the wind blowing through the few strands of hair remaining on my scalp, and the G-forces pulling at the sagging flesh, it was great.  It made me feel young again.
Until my beloved mentioned (with a grimace) that the terribly high speed (95 kph on the motorway) was causing her back to spasm, and could I slow down to sensible speeds.
It was a sports car for God's sake, it was supposed to go fast.
But I acquiesced, it was her car, and I didn't want to cause her any pain.
So I slowed down.

DO you have any idea what it feels like to be driving an open topped sports car on a warm sunny day, being overtaken by grannies on pushbikes?
I exaggerate slightly, but not by that much.
Mature Asian ladies, gripping the steering wheel in a death grip were overtaking us in 20 year old Ford Lasers.
Learner drivers in Smart cars were zipping past us.
Dump trucks carrying laden skips were leaving us in their dust.
Even a guy on a horse trotted past.
But my beloved's pain was reduced, so it was worth it.  Really.

Two more days of school, then my pain will be reduced.
I think we (the Time Table Committee) are going to set up the form classes and the SSR groups today.
Joy.

T W O   M O R E   D A Y S.



I will survive.

We will survive.

AND I WILL HAVE MY REVENGE

Success

We went for a little trip to Johnsonville yesterday.
Even though her back was still pretty sore, my beloved insisted she was well enough to go to a long-planned Tai Chi conference and exhibition
I was acting in my usual role as taxi driver and escort, but Praise Be, I was allowed to escape for the 4 hours while the exhibition was taking place.

I had a pleasant drive through Churton Park, Tawa and ended up in Porirua.
I'm so glad I live in Upper Hutt.

I had planned to be in Porirua, as I had a plan in place to supply a surprise Christmas present to my beloved.
You may remember the problems I have had with Christmas presents in the past, here's a list to remind you.

1. Frying Pan. This one was meant as a joke, as a secondary or tertiary gift, backing up the primary. Unfortunately, the primary gift, (a very expensive set of Hi-Fidelity wireless earphones) was rejected within 0.2 milliseconds of the gift being removed from its packaging, so the jocularity I had planned for when I bought out the frying pan was absent. A stony and extended silence ensued.
   
   36 hours of frigid silence at Christmas does not a happy holiday make.
2. Perfume. Normally a good choice, especially when it’s a reputable brand like Channel, Yves St. Laurent etc. But. Don’t get perfume as the main gift 5 years in a row, and don’t, I really mean, NEVER buy the same perfume that your Mum used to use.
3. Vacuum Cleaner. No matter how good the advertising is, nor how crappy your present Hoover is, don’t be tempted. Guys might be happy with a socket set, or a rechargeable drill or even a set of screwdrivers, but the balance is NOT equitable. Home appliances ≠ female happiness.
4. Irons. This was my major mistake in all the years. Do you have any idea how scary it is to see a heavy, stainless steel iron coming at your face at about 80 mph? Remember Home appliances ≠ female happiness.
5. Automobile. This one was a shocker. I had really believed that this time it was the winner. A metallic blue, Mazda MX5 (Miata in the USA) convertible. I had polished it, it was gleaming in the summer sunshine (Christmas is early summer in NZ) and my beloved had always said that she wanted a convertible. Tears and mutterings of “never gave me the choice” indicated that I had miscalculated.
6. Negligee. The basic idea was alright, I think. Attractive but not too slutty, expensive, comfortable (so said the assistant, who thinking about it now, was on commission) unfortunately, it was too small. I had bought it 2 sizes too small. It was the same size as she had when we got married. I think it implied “getting fat”. I wasn’t “getting fat”, I didn’t get any Christmas dinner that year.
7. Negligee. Same as 6, but this time, to be on the safe side, I had bought a bigger size. 8 sizes bigger than the original size. “Much safer” I thought. “She can always exchange it” I thought. “ I’m getting hungry” I thought, as I didn’t get any Christmas dinner two years in a row.
8. Clothes. Any type; blouses, skirts, trousers, woollens, dresses. It doesn’t matter what you buy, the size/shape/design/colour/fit/designer/size will be wrong. I know I’ve mentioned size twice. Even when you change it to the “proper” size, it’ll still be wrong. There is one exception; Dressing Gowns are acceptable. It's really difficult to get the wrong size, but they are NEUTRAL, they don't get you any brownie points, or food (or any Sex, come to that)
9. Money. As I neared desperation, I began to try those items removing all personal choice. Money would be safe I thought. Oh no. “Too impersonal” I was told. It showed I didn’t care. It showed I hadn’t thought much about it. Shit.
10. Jewellery. Far too expensive, but I made the sacrifice. Spent 3 months prowling around the jewellers and finally decided on a lovely gold and sapphire gold ring. I decided on specifying white gold, as it was that bit more unusual and unique, and I thought it suited the fitting perfectly. First reaction was all that I could have expected, and then I was asked two questions.
    
    
    
    1. What had I done that made me feel so guilty that I had bought such an expensive gift.
    2. Why did I choose white gold. I knew (she said) that She didn’t like white gold. It was unlucky. (Our bloody wedding rings are in white gold. She doesn’t miss a trick)
    
    
    
    So this Christmas it is going to be the present of her dreams.  Wish me luck.
    I think I'll need it.
    
    When we returned home, my beloved's back was really sore, so I volunteered to cook again.
    A faint look of repugnance flitted across my beloved's countenance.  "So that's a NO then", I thought.
    "What about congee?" I asked (congee is a sort of rich rice porridge, with meat and veg)
    "We don't have suitable vegetables" she said. (seemingly chicken and asparagus is not a suitable mix.  Don't ask me, I'm just a stupid man.  Obviously.)
    Then I volunteered to make some French Toast.  (I wasn't particularly hungry. as I had sneaked a clandestine Burger in Porirua.  Actually, that'd make a good title for a song.  "The Burger from Porirua")
    My beloved said yes, so I made the French Toast:
    
    
    
    4 eggs well beaten
    
    ½ cup milk
    Dash of Worcester sauce (must be Lee & Perrins)
    Salt
    Pepper
    4 slices of bread
     
    (No offence to our American friends, but sweet French Toast isn't as good as savoury.  Keep the maple syrup away please)
     
    Soak bread in egg mixture until completely soggy
    Slide into hot well oiled frying pan
    Fry for 3-4 minutes per side
    Serve hot, with extra salt and pepper.
     
    They were perfect.  Nice and crunchy on the outside, nicely moist on the inside.
    I added a couple of fried tomatoes for some gesture towards healthy eating, but it was really in vain.
     
    MY BELOVED ENJOYED IT.
    I SCORED A 10
    SUCCESS
     
    
    
    It may have been my superb culinary skills
    It may have been my beloved's hunger (She had no lunch)
    It may have been the codeine (and a glass of wine) acting on her judgement.
    But I didn't care.
    SUCCESS
     
    

    

    Wow, You're so clever

Dinner

I cooked dinner last night.
My beloved's back was still very sore, so I volunteered to buy food (our larder was getting low) and cook.
She graciously accepted, so I popped into the supermarket after work.  Now my beloved is a superb cook, in virtually any cooking style, but she excels in Chinese and most Far-Eastern styles, and while I love them, sometimes I would prefer something a bit simpler.  Something planer.  Something British.

So I bought some Lamb Steak, two bunches of Asparagus, a box of new (organic) potatoes from Oamaru and some baby carrots.

After I got home and tidyed up, I grilled the steaks, boiled the spuds and carrots, and used the microwave on the asparagus.  I made a garlic, olive oil, salt and rosemary paste in the mortar and pestle, and used that as a quick marinade for the lamb.  Everything else was cooked simply, and I just added butter to all the vegies just before serving.
I overdid the lamb a bit, and it was a bit tough, but I thought the vegies were great.

Too much butter?  Rubbish

My beloved did not agree.  I had used too much butter on the spuds (I ask you, is it possible to have TOO MUCH BUTTER on new potatoes or asparagus?  I don't think so) The asparagus had been overcooked she said.  I thought it still had a nice crunch, it wasn't overcooked until it was all wobbly.  The carrots were too watery.  I agree.  I hadn't given them time to steam off, nor had I added enough butter.

Oh, don't get me wrong, my beloved was not ungrateful, she was all smiles for my efforts.
Then she made the comment I knew was coming. 
She:  "I still haven't changed your way of looking at food, have I?"
Me:   "What do you mean"?
She:  "You still like these old foods"
Me:  "If you mean simple and plain, well sometimes. Yes"
She:  "I haven't made you think healthy"
Me:  "What"
She:  "You use too much butter"
Me:  (In slightly guilty tones) "Well, maybe.  But we don't do it very often" (ending in whine)
She:  (In an amazing mixture of benign condescension) "Someone has to worry about your health, Dear"
Me: (Defeated, and knowing it) "Yes Dear"
She: "I know you tried Dear, and it was so nice not to have to cook"
Me: "Yes Dear"
She: "I'll be fine by tomorrow, so I'll do the cooking then"
Me: "Yes Dear"
She: "Are you doing the washing up now?"
Me: "Yes Dear"
She: "You seem to have used a lot of pots and pans"
Me: (Through gritted teeth) "Yes Dear"
She: "Have you arranged any dessert?"
Me: "Yes Dear"
She: "That's nice, what will it be?"
Me: (mumbling) "Humble Pie Dear"
She: "What was that you said Dear?"
Me: "Apple Pie Dear, with Custard"
She: "Oh, that'll be nice, but we don't need the custard Dear, it's too high in fats and sugars.  Just pie on it's own will be fine"
Me: "Ffffffff.... Yes Dear"
She: "After you do the washing and drying will be fine Dear"
Me: "Yes Dear";  leaves, going to kitchen, feet dragging, a beaten man

Sometimes I really feel like going out, finding the guy who discovered Cholesterol and shooting him.
Right after I shoot the stupid bastard who invented marriage.