Stroooooooooooooooganoff. And memories.

Food:

  • Breakfast: Frosted mini-wheats, 1% milk, coffee, half & half
  • Snackie: Yoplait Light Yogurt w/ Granola, Pink Lady Apple
  • Lunch: Ginger Quinoa w/ red pepper and green beans, Chicken Piccata, Fuze
  • Snack: Sam Adams Oktoberfest beer.
  • Dinner: Red wine, Beef & Portobello Mushroom Stroganoff, french bread w/ rosemary garlic olive oil

Exercise:

  • bwaaaaahahahaha.

O.M.G.  Stroganoff is fucking delicious.  Wow.  Impeccable flavor.  And I love flank steak, and this included flank steak.  Not gonna lie…I used a lil extra vegetable oil cooking the veggies (4 portobello mushrooms seemed like way too many… and 1 tblsp. of oil didn’t seem enough to cook them.)  Also… I used regular fat sour cream… and regular noodles instead of wheat.

… I know, I know.  Bad Menace.  I’d have had to hit King Sooper’s in addition to Sprouts to manage the noodles, and I really didn’t have time…  Annnnnd… I had reduced fat sour cream… but…  Tim seemed excited about stroganoff, and I have been making him eat some weird shit due to proximity to my diet, so I figured wtf.

The beer.  Technically a cheat day item.  Ok, literally a cheat day item.  I’m down 8 lbs, my pants don’t fit b/c 8s are still tight and 10s are too big, and I came home to find that Reilly had eaten… *sigh.*  My wooden bench.  I wanted a beer, so I indulged.  And now wine.  And it’s okay.  I can have beer and wine today and it’s okay.

Reilly.  Love that dog.  She ate my bench.  I’m adopted.  My parents rescued me from foster care in early 1986, I was one and a half.  My maternal grandfather built my brother  Matt and I wooden (miniature) park benches from scratch for Christmas in 1986.  That is perhaps my earliest memory… that Christmas, those benches… one of them mine.  It survived over a quarter century of childhood, adolescence, and early adulthood.  I remember setting my dolls on it, my stuffed animals, my CDs and video games.  It survived.  To be eaten by a puppy.  I cried.  A lot.  When I got home.  I saw the wood bits near the bench in the living room and knew.  I put my stuff down and walked over to see…  I sat down and stared at it for a moment… then turned it upside down to where I knew the inscription from my grandpa was.  In his familiar handwriting, from so many birthday cards.  To Lindsey.  From Grandpa and Grandma.  Christmas 1986.  He spelled my name wrong, with an “e.”  I had just been adopted.  My name had just been changed.  If it wasn’t the first thing someone made for me, it was close.  And it was made with love.  And today Reilly ate it.

My grandfather was a truly incredible man.  And he loved me.  So much.  And I didn’t fully appreciate what a great man he was until he was gone.  Gil Reimers not only fought in WWII, he was a medic at D-Day and the Battle of the Bulge, and he lived.  He had no weapon at two of the bloodiest battles of one of the bloodiest wars, and he lived.  The parachute he landed in was sent home to my grandmother, Anna, who used it to make her wedding dress.  He did “Meals on Wheels” for elderly and disabled people  for years when he had retired.  He took my father, who’d been kicked out of the house at 16, graduated with honors, and put himself through school, under his wing.  He was a good man, and he loved me, and he made me a wooden bench to tell me so, and for me to have once he was gone, to give to my children so they could share his love, and now it’s gone, too.  I feel so stupid for leaving it out where Reilly could get to it.  Of course she did, it was wood.

In reality…  it’s a bench.  I’m not going to have children.  It looks silly in my formal living room…  but little Max and Mia (they’re 3 now, and have curly black hair like me) come over and see it and just have to sit in it… it’s just their size… and it warms my heart…  and now it’s destroyed.

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4 Responses so far »

  1. 1

    Oh Menace, I am so sorry about your bench 😦

  2. 2

    hipcheckya said,

    I’m sorry Menace 😦

  3. 3

    Oh Menace!!! I am very sorry to hear about your bench. It is very difficult to loose THINGS that mean so much to our hearts. The THING that was not destroyed rhough was the love your grandfather gave a little girl who was chosen. It is easy to be born into a family, but to be chosen AND loved? Now that is something special indeed.

  4. 4

    sunnyd605 said,

    oh buddy, i’m so sorry about the bench. the bench might be gone but all of the things it represented are still real.


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