Larry is an excellent grill chef. Weekends you can find him pouring over his grilling 'bibles', sticky notes in one hand to mark the pages, pen and paper in the other to make his grocery list. Some of the ingredients are a bit odd and send us into unfamiliar stores where confused employees play the game of 'what is the crazy gringo asking for'. I guess we have been lucky so far as we have never been slapped in the face or suddenly found ourselves purchasing small farm animals. Life is good on that front.
One weekend Larry had grilled us up some especially tasty porterhouse steaks with a homemade bbq sauce that I would pit against any KC steakhouse. About 1/8 of the way into the side of beef sized steak he had made for me, I gave up. When Larry got as far as he could through his portion, he told me to sit tight and he would clear the plates.
We had an enjoyable rest of the evening watching some movie through eyelids flying half mast and the occassional groan of 'I'm stuffed'. Finally around midnight we gave up and hit the sack.
The next morning Larry decided that steak and eggs was on the menu and hurried around making fresh brewed coffee, and hauling the ingredients and pots and pans out. I noticed him moving things around inside the fridge then moving them around again. I asked him what he was looking for. "Nothing", he mumbled back. 10 minutes later I go back to the kitchen expecting to see the normal 'Larry is in the kitchen' nuclear disaster but, all I saw was Larry standing in front of the cabinet that houses our tupperware style containers. He was staring at a container he held in his hands and I swear I saw his lower lip quivering. "What's wrong?" I asked. "Well, when we finished dinner last night, I put the leftovers in a container, rinsed the dishes off and loaded the dishwasher. I couldn't find the steak this morning though." He said. "Then what is that in your hand?" "The steak." "Ok, then you found it" "Yes but, it wasn't in the fridge". "Where was it?" "In the cabinet." I couldn't help but chuckle even though he was obviously upset over the misplacement, spoilage and loss of his precious steak. When Clara Peller asked "Where's the beef" back in the mid 1980's, someone should have told her "look in the tupperware cabinet".
The next morning Larry is out of bed before me. There isn't quite the spring in his step as there is no steak and eggs to be had. I hear him open the pantry for the box of Special K with Red Berries (which are strawberries but, that is another story), the cabinet for a bowl, the fridge for the milk and reheating a cup of coffee. I make it downstairs awhile later and open the fridge for some milk. There, staring me in the face is the box of Special K with Red Berries.
I am 7 years older than Larry. That means while I am in the infancy stage of this decade of my life, he is in the toddler stage of his. Neither of us is near any stage of any decade that should make us absent minded so I can only assume that living with me the last 3 years has finally taken its toll. No Larry hasn't lost his mind but, he has misplaced it. Perhaps I should check the dryer.
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