The Calorie-Delivery Sandwich.
While I’m at home with the kids, fending off scurvy and heatstroke and foot trauma by errant legos, Dan is in the cool high mountains, alone, eating peanut butter-cheese-bacon-chocolate sandwiches.
Which is to say, ye old month-long bow season has begun, and the last time I saw Dan he was thawing out bags of elk pee he’d collected in winter (scent-camo) and slapping together edible protein boluses. We all miss Dan, but also know he wouldn’t appreciate our evening huddles around netflix, snack-a-dinnering in bed.
Additionally, someone in the household has given up sweeteners (sugar, honey, molasses, agave, etc…) and grains for the next month or so (fruit and dairy supposedly next), which is a little too upsetting to expand upon. Single-parenting has always been most effective for me under the influence of beer and chocolate. However, it is interesting to consider what else to do those 23 or so times each day I reach for a small bit of something sweet.
But, we’re mostly coping well. Rose now knows how to make the morning coffee.