Drinks, dinner, and hockey

My hands smell of the thyme I just touched. Steve has flatly refused all help with dinner (other than the occasional direction to a pantry item or recipe clarification), so in a strange twist I sit watching the hockey game while he slices and dices. And the strange twist in that statement is that I have developed a profound enjoyment of this sport. It helps, I think, that we have a good team to root for (they’re from the South Bay and are named after the sea predators with very distinctive theme music). So here I sit with my Canadian cider watching a Canadian sport and write this mostly to fight the urge to jump up and help. He picked mac and cheese – and not the kind that involves a blue box. He’s sauteeing onions and making a roux and a five cheese sauce. Depending on his confidence there may be bacon involved (for him only, of course).
After midnight Saturday he will almost certainly be on strike and we begin an indeterminate waiting period. No plans, no trips until it’s over. I worry about this. I will be back to full salary just in time but for how long? He assures me the strike won’t last forever – and being the amazing person he is has enough socked away to cover expenses for quite a while but I’m tired of feeling like a financial burden and want to help.
It appears that the constant worry that has plagued me all winter will not disipate with the coming of spring. It seems that the old adage proves true- what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. I’m sure I would have eventually tumbled to the realization of how extraordinary a person he is, but I wonder if finding myself in financial and emotional need helped catalyze and cement our love. I have found the guy who genuinely wants to sweep me off my feet and his sole motive in doing so is making me happy. Because of him I’m almost a bit grateful for the insomnia and loopy stomach that has become a constant. Because now when I wake up in the middle of the night and lie there with all my worries running through my brain, he reaches over and pulls me close, quieting my demons.

Tags: cooking, hockey, relationships, Steve