"Don't eat it!"

Having grown up in a restaurant family, Hubby's a darned good cook. He enjoys it, too. It's nothing fancy. Plain ol' fashioned food the kind his family cooked and served. Occasionally, though, he likes to try doing something a little different.

Sometimes it is an improvement. Other times, a disaster.

Since it was only the two of us last night, Hubby marinated and then broiled two thick, center-cut pork chops I'd put in the freezer last week. Mashed potatoes and seasoned canned corn. In the living room in front of the television.

He brought my plate out, and then headed back to the kitchen for something.

I know, I know. Mannerly people aren't supposed to start eating until everyone else does. A long time ago I used to be one of those because that's how I was raised. Then, I married into Hubby's family and learned really fast that you start eating as soon as YOU get your food. If you don't, it might not be there 'cause somebody else ate it.

Add to that it doesn't matter what Hubby fixes. Even if it's only heating up a can of soup, before you can even get a spoonful in your mouth he's going to ask, "How is it?"

So I cut a nice big piece of that thick pork chop, chewed and swallowed. It wasn't until then that it registered that something tasted a little . . . off. Not bad and not really discernable, just faintly . . . off.

It was probably just me. I ate another bite, more slowly this time. No. I don't think it's me.

Hubby came in with his silverware and glass of milk. Before he even put it down he asked, "How is it?"

"I'm not quite sure how to put this . . . but . . . I don't know how long you had the chops in the marinade or what you put into the marinade this time . . . but . . . it tastes like the meat is starting to rot."

On wing-ed feet Hubby flew back to the kitchen, from where he hollared, "You're right! Don't eat it!"

I woke up about 3 ayem or so heading for the bathroom. Then I crawled back to bed.

I don't know how many additional trips I made by the time the sun came up, but the light made me feel even worse. A headache so intense IT got my stomach going again.

I managed to gulp and keep down a couple Advil (tm thingie) , and some soup around noon.

It's only now that for the first time today that my stomach feels good enough to eat something solid, and I'm hungry.

Hubby just brought in a steak he'd put on the grill. No marinade, and much too well done for his taste. Far closer to mine.

Some women understand when their fella is saying he's sorry through the words he's expressing, flowers he's carrying or maybe jewelry he's giving.

I know mine's apologizing with that steak.