So I have to add a new label tag. It is a "feel very sorry for my husband" tag. I have to do this because: 1) have you met me? You should really feel sorry for my husband, 2) I do shit all the time that he just shakes his head at and lovingly just walks away, 3) I'm just a little neurotic...just a little.
So, I'm telling on myself, and if I've already told this story, just skip to the recipe, another reason I need that tag, I forget what I've already posted. This is the story of the time my husband plotted to murder me.
Dave played basketball on Wednesday nights and his game this particular week was at 9:00, past my bedtime. I took my meds, kissed him goodnight, and drifted off to a fitful slumber. About 11:00 I heard a noise downstairs and it woke me up. I listened carefully and came to the conclusion that Dave was home and was plotting my murder (what! how did I get there so quickly? it had to be the meds). I laid in bed SWEATING knowing that any second, Dave would come upstairs and kill me in my sleep.
Then I decided that I wasn't going down without a fight. I would go downstairs, confront him, make a huge mess, write his name in my blood on the wall so everyone would know it was him (yes, really...I had a plan) and at least he wouldn't get away with it.
Now, before I go downstairs, let's put some things in perspective. Dave doesn't even raise his voice to me. He disagrees, states (what he thinks) are the facts and stops. I accuse him of yelling, but that is just because he doesn't seem to understand reality (my way of thinking). So a violent murder at the hands of my husband is unlikely, although I'm sure someone with less self control might consider it if they had to live with me.
So I stormed downstairs, ready to make a mess, wake the neighbors and not die without a fight. I stomped into the living room and asked (rather calmly, I'm sure) "What do you think you are doing?"
Dave was lying on the sofa reading a Nicholas Sparks book , he looked up and said "Um, reading. Are you O.K.?"
It was at that moment I knew I was completely over the edge. I was crazy! "I'm fine," I stammered and headed back up the stairs. I was mortified. Where had that thought come from?
The next day, I told my school nurse (I'm sure she was convinced she was working with a lunatic). She told me to call my doctor and tell Dave. I called my dr., he told me to bring him the rest of the meds and he would give me something else. It took 3 days for me to tell Dave.
Me: "Dave, sit down, we need to talk."
Dave: "What is going on?"
Me: I tell him the whole story as I cry uncontrollably.
Dave: "Oh, is that all? I thought you were going to ask for a divorce!"
Really. How could I divorce a man who reads Nicholas Sparks and put up with me? Again, feel very sorry for my husband.
Because I am haunted by many memories that this. I often try to make special treats for Dave. I know it is just one little way to keep him happy, and not plotting my demise. I don't eat clams, so this is all for him. Love you honey.
Manilla Clams with Bacon and Onions
1 lb. clams, scrubbed
1/2 sweet onion, diced
3 pieces Canadian bacon
1/2 red pepper, diced (it looks really pretty, but Dave doesn't like peppers so I don't add them anymore)
1 cup vegetable or chicken broth
1 Tbsp. olive oil or coconut oil
Saute onion in oil over med. high heat until tender, add bacon and cook until bacon is slightly crisp.
Add broth and clams, cover. Cook until clams open about 5-7 minutes. Remove clams, place them in a bowl and cover, boil broth until reduced by half.
Pour broth, onions, and bacon over clams. Serve with crusty bread.
May 6, 2013 Daylight 17 hours, 40 minutes, 58 seconds Temp. H 43/ L 21 ºF