No, that's not beer in the photo: it's Reed's Premium Ginger Brew. I quit the hooch the better part of a decade ago when alcohol and I became far too friendly. If I wasn't yet an alcoholic, I was certainly flying headlong down the road to Alkyville with an open fifth of Stolichnaya in my hand, howling at the moon and doing my best impersonation of Ray Milland in The Lost Weekend.
But I digress.
As I compose this post three hours later, I am still full from the culinary expertise my wife demonstrated in her role as domestic Chef de Cuisine. She does 90 percent of the cooking, while I handle the dishes and cleanup.
A near perfect division of labor, that one.
Yet my wife is far more than just a pretty face in the kitchen. While I went outside to burn off some calories by mowing the lawn and weeding the gardens, she built a wooden shelf upon which our flat-screen television now sits. All I had to do was lug a few heavy boards and help hoist the 65-pound behemoth onto its new perch.
Trained first as an engineer, my wife utilized this particular skill set, and she designed, measured, mitred, sawed, leveled, and assembled this fine piece of carpentry. Me? If it involves much more than pounding a nail or driving a wood screw, count me out: I lack the ability to visualize any skilled carpentry job, and let's just say that my previous attempts at working with wood on my own to create something permanent have been utter failures.
But electrical? Oy! I can still kick arse in that department, and I have yet to kill myself, though I once had a bad run-in with a live 480-volt wire and a socket wrench when I was fixing a pizza oven years ago.
Even after a full day of home improvement projects and cooking the Meal of the Year, my wife still found time to pay a short visit to see my oldest son at a DJ gig he landed at Claddagh's Irish Pub at Westfield. So I need to add the title "SuperMom" to my wife's résumé, and even though we are about to celebrate Father's Day, it is the mom in our family who really rocks.