Coffeehouse Chronicles ...and Another Trip Around the Sun

Hello Chroniclers.

I’m unashamedly looking for sympathy from all of you. 

Today marks our 37th wedding anniversary 💕 I'm still looking to meet my parole officer. 

In the past, I know you’ve heard me lament the fact that the HB is an NFL football superfan. You remember: the fantasy team(s), the sprint out of church to catch the early games, the four games at once on TV in the kitchen, her tablet with a game along with her computer following all the games and tabulating her fantasy football progress, the conference calls to her fantasy football co-captain (her older sister), and the other phone calls to taunt her older brother, the league commish).

My contribution to Sunday is that I have been relegated to silence, unless, of course, I have something constructive to say about the team or game she happens to be focused on at the moment. The challenge is that I have to be astute enough to know which of the six games that are on the TV or laptop that the HB is focused on. In addition, I’m not allowed to ask about lunch, nor can I expect anything more than saltines, peanut butter, and bottled water. Lunch is overrated, and anyway, I can have dinner after the afternoon games on a TV tray while “we” enjoy the night game together. 

Anyway, it’s about this time of year when the HB notices, “Hey!?!? Why are there games on Saturday, too? Oh no. Does that mean that…?” 

“It’s postseason, Hon.”

“Wait…no….already? It’s almost over again?”

I had to break it to her gently, “Yes, Dear.” 

That’s not what I need you focus on. The real problem is that tax season is beginning.

I’m gonna need someone to volunteer to start a spreadsheet. Yes. That’s because during football season, I’m only a widower on Sundays. Once tax season begins, I’m a widower on every day other than Sunday. I’m gonna need sustenance.

The line starts behind the First Lady. Her chili is amazing! It’s now obvious why the Right Reverend Doctor is a gym rat. If he weren’t, he would probably be the star of that TV show, My 700-pound Life. Who knew that Mrs. Right Reverend was such a good cook?

Rumor has it that the Right Reverend Doctor has his eye on another grill. He's afraid to mention it out loud in my presence, out of fear of ridicule. Look, I'm just gonna put this out there, you only need to cook steak once. 

He's got about 5 different cooking elements in the backyard right now. Their pool guy quit in protest. His resignation letter read, “I'm sorry that you have a ninja turtle pool.  I have been unable to get past the grill(s) to service your pool. Please feel free to call me back after your husband's intervention. 

Sincerely, Ronnie the Pool Magician.“

Happy birthday/anniversary to the most prettiest girl in school. If we'd been in the same elementary school, I most certainly would have been tormenting her by pulling her pigtails. 

You know what to do! Drink ‘em if ya got ‘em!

#coffeehousechronicles