Getting Engaged (Finally)

Calling this post long-delayed is a bit like calling the Pacific Ocean “wet” or the guy who slipped up on the Zune leap-year bug “fired” – it is a severe understatement while still being accurate. I was recently alerted by Nightsinger to the fact that my lovely wife repeatedly tells her version of the engagement story, which has certain elements which depart wildly from the truth. Admittedly, that’s mostly because she’s assuming chaos where there was intention, but there were equal parts chaos where she assumes intention. It evens out on my side, because I’m writing this.

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My license has been revoked

On Sunday night, Mandrina asked me to start some water on the stove so she could make grits when she got home from rehearsal. As a pleasant surprise, I figured, “Hey, I can cook grits. They can be ready when she gets home!”

Now, let’s be clear. We’re talking “instant grits.” The steps consist of measuring water, heating water, adding grits, covering. Not rocket science. Not even science at all. The back of the box has less than half of the box covered in instructions — with one quarter of the box given over to branding, and the instructions provided in two languages and for both stovetop and microwave. Even they know it’s simple. And I’ve made grits before — with great success. Long before we were even married, Mandrina received grits as a present from her best friend back home, and I made REAL grits.

Not so on Sunday night. I expect to shortly receive formal notice from the Association of Men Qualified To Marry Southern Belles that my license has been revoked, as the grits I made ended up being worse than gruel. I’ll have to start from scratch again… Back to putting bacon in vegetables…