Who among us doesn’t love roasted vegetables, roasted turkey and roast beef? Delicious! But, have you ever had a chance to try a “roasted” husband? Or, “roasted” wife, friend, etc.?
Recently, I tasted a slightly over-roasted husband. At first I was like, meh, it must be an acquired taste or maybe he just cooked a little too much this time.
But, after a few more tries it grew on me. Some of the condiments (walking cane, multiple bathrobes, wine for ages) were funny and made swallowing it easier. Kind of like the way busting your ass to get ahead in life grows on you: lick thy wounds, pretend they don’t hurt, hold your nose and laugh…to “get there.”
Last weekend was our company’s Christmas/Holiday party. A good time was had by all on the 26th floor of the swanky Buckhead Club (games, DJ, amazing food, beautiful view, dancing…and surprises). Years of hard work went into making it to the Buckhead Club for a Christmas celebration. This year was particularily special because,...as you already know -- roasted husband -- (mine!) was served for all to devour.
Upon arrival, I was swiftly informed that my handsome husband, who is easing into retirement, would be roasted to a crisp after dinner was served. Would I care to join him on stage in the oven? was presented to me as an option. In spite of innate stage fright, I joyfully accepted. Of course I’d roast, I mean stand by, his side while enduring over-the-hill grief from co-workers.
Jeff and I are blessed to make it to retirement age. Much success has come our way and we are beyond grateful. No doubt, we’ve had our share of frowns and why me days, but such is the road to reward. No pain no gain (I know, original right?).
Acquiring taste for a [surprise] roasted husband wasn’t, right off the bat, easy. But I wouldn’t have forfeited a front row seat no matter how hard my heart pounded or how hard I prayed to not have to speak.
There was a steady flow of folks streaming down the aisle with absurd, gotcha gifts in tow. One gift of note was a chair to rock the days away that says “Porche” -- as opposed to Porsche -- on the back. It even has a gear shift on it (sadly no photo).
I’ve never in all of our marriage seen Jeff in a bathrobe. He now has five, three of which are Hugh Hefner-esque, hmm. He has enough coffee mugs with retirement quotes to last for ten straight days. Knickknacks were received that only people who gave them know the meaning of. Stuff kept coming and coming down the aisle, including an age-defying dermabrasion tool and hilarious-looking golf pants.
Before long Jeff Sweeney was well-done, over-cooked. Audience interest waned and it was at this moment that I most enjoyed it because nobody cared who was on stage and I was keenly aware of that. Good laughs were on a roll!
A couple days later, we took the girls to the office to see their father’s roasted gear. We got as silly as the roasting itself was. We couldn’t find the golf pants though? If someone snuck them out, I’m certain Jeff will spy them on a golf course sooner or later. They’re hard to miss.
Cheers to all those who have tasted a good, well-done, roasted husband and swallowed it with joy, love and laughter.
Thank you for reading!