Mon frigo est mort!

My fridge died!

My behemoth refrigerator has finally given up the ghost after fourteen years of exemplary service - its coolant is slowly traveling south. It certainly owes us nothing, and will surely be headed to the Great Towers of Chilldom in the sky. It does, however, leave us with a lot of things that need to be thrown away, consumed, frozen downstairs, or cooked.

It should come as no surprise to anyone that knows me that we have a large-ish standing freezer in the basement. I am a Cancerian woman, meaning, in a nutshell, that food is love to me. If I have fed you, then you can reasonably assume that I love you in one form or another. Have I ever brought you cookies? I love you. Have I had you over for a meal? I love you. Have I ever drizzled chocolate sauce all over your naked flesh and slowly licked it off? ahem. sorry. But you can be assured that if that ever happened, that I would certainly love you. The WCM is a Taurean man, meaning, simply, that he thinks with his stomach. As long as his gustatorial demands are satisfied, he's quite a happy camper. He gets cranky if I don't feed him regularly. Luckily, I love to cook and nourish those I love. In this area, we work quite harmoniously together.

So, tonight, the WCM and I cooked. He grilled some bratwurst while I roasted some brussels sprouts (yes! another vegetable! and a formerly reviled one, at that!) and fried a whole pound of bacon. The recipe for the brussels sprouts only calls for 4 rashers of bacon, but, c'mon! It's bacon! I can't really refrigerate it again, so I might as well cook it. It'll keep just fine on the counter until I'm hungry again in 3 hours and pounce on it like a ravenous she-wolf.

After dinner, we're going to go purchase a new fridge. Hope it's big enough to hold all the love we need.