Tuesday, April 28, 2009


Saturday, Jack was running late coming home from work, and we were going to go to the JFK museum with our friends this afternoon. He called me on the way home, asking me if I could warm something up for him so he'd have enough time to eat a little something before we left.

We had been working on eating a 5-pound roast since Monday, so we were a little tired of it, so I decided to change it up a little by chopping the beef up, mixing it with barbecue sauce, and serving it on a hamburger bun.

When Jack got home and saw the plate, he circled around it once, staring in awe.

"What is that?" he asked, eyes wide.

"It's a barbecue beef sandwich," I replied.

"Wooah," he said, as he examined it further. "That's awesome."

He took a bite and made a loud mmmmmmm sound, then gave me a big hug and told me I was "the best wifey ever."

Later, he was eating the rest sandwich, still in awe of its meaty goodness. He looked at me.

"Where did you get this?" he asked.

"Out of our fridge," I replied. "It's just that roast we've been eating for a week."

"Really?" he asked, surprised. "I didn't know we had this! Where did you get the beef?"

"...from the roast," I said, again. "I just added barbecue sauce."

"And you chopped it all up too?" he asked. This sandwich was evidently blowing his mind.

"Yeeah," I said.

"Wooooah." he replied, in awe, staring at the sandwich.

I tilted my head and looked at him adoringly.

"You're pretty," I told him.

He looked at me and smiled goofily.

"Pretty awesome," he replied, matter-of-factly, and took another bite.


The other day, Jack and I were in front of the TV, staring out our respective laptop screens (as is usually the scene at the Hornbuckle house), when suddenly, Jack got all excited.

"Oooooo!" he said, "We have to make a bet with Owen!" I looked up.


"Because Texas A&M is playing DBU in baseball soon," he replied, still looking at the screen.

"Okay," I said, slowly. "And why would Owen care about that?" Jack looked at me like I was an airhead.

"Um, because he goes there."

"Owen goes to Dallas Theological Seminary," I said.

"Yeah! DB... oh. Wait. D-T-S," he thought out loud. "Never mind."


So I was getting ready for my day one day (alone in the house...that's always where the trouble starts), when I went under the door frame from our bathroom, and I looked up and had a brilliant idea (which, as you all know, is never actually brilliant).

I wonder if I can still do a pull up?

My brother and I used to jump up and touch the molding in this house when we were growing up, when we could barely reach the top of the door. Then, as we got taller, we would jump up, grab onto the top of the molding, and do a little pull-up. I'm sure my parents loved it.

So I stood there, a mature adult, wondering if I could do a pull-up on the molding that I used to as a child. I decided, of course, that I'd better try it out.

I put my arms up and placed my hands on both sides of the door frame, slowly putting a little bit of my weight onto the molding.


I let go quickly after I felt the molding give a bit under my weight. Evidently 15-year-old molding can't take 200% of the weight it used to. Who knew?

Guess you have to grow up sometime.


Suburban Turmoil said...

You just inspired me to post my favorite recipe for a leftover roast. It is great and easy. Here you go-