The other day in the Man Cave I made pot roast and convinced my finicky teen to eat it by putting it between two slices of bread, “Look, a MEAT SANDWICH!” It was gobbled down. This is not the first time we’ve battled over pot roast, my friends. Continue reading
‘Where did I go wrong?’ Or, ‘Don’t judge me!’
While watching Scooby-Doo (the original series) my youngest just said he liked “Scrappy-Doo.” I sent him to his room. I think that’s fair.
This has been an actual conversation in the Man Cave. What’s the Man Cave? Read this.
A reporter’s notebook on Thanksgiving dinner
I had Thanksgiving “off” this year. No minor thing for this reporter-girl. For many, many years Thanksgiving week has been the trifecta of reporter assignments:
*Wednesday, talk with busy travelers.
*Thursday, go to the mission where they’re serving up Thanksgiving breakfast.
*Friday, go talk with Black Friday shoppers. And don’t get run-over (they are a determined lot).
It’s exhausting, but in a good way. It’s a good reminder that I have a job. A good reminder that I had Thanksgiving dinner waiting for me at home, either courtesy a gracious relative or the deli department at the local grocery store. I hadn’t roasted a turkey since I was a mere newly-wed, standing in the kitchen asking my baby-sister if she knew which end of the bird I was SUPPOSE to stuff . . . Continue reading
It’s too hot, but I’m not complaining
I’m thinking about how hot it gets in the Man Cave (and nearly everywhere else). Truly. It’s as if a little old lady in a Florida retirement home manages the temperature in all of the buildings in New York City. Seems like you can almost hear, “Marvin, turn the heat up. I’m FREEZIN’ my caboose off here’!” or “Marvin, blast the A-C, I’m havin’ a HOT FLASH HERE!” Continue reading
Frilly girl clothes mangled by manhandling-washer
Bad ‘Man Cave’ washing machine. Bad, bad, BAD! Just look what you did to my underwear! That is going to take FOREVER to un-knot. Don’t you know, for every bra that gets mangled, a Victoria’s Secret ‘Angel’ loses her wings?! Continue reading
Grocery grumps and the check-out line coupon conundrum
The cupboards in the Man Cave are empty. Really. I need to go shopping.
The hardest part of shopping in our little almost-in-New York town is not getting to the grocery store, not running through vast isles to grab something edible and not schlepping all of it to the check-out line.
The toughest part of the grocery-store-expedition is getting through the check-out isle.
Customers here not only haggle, they’ve made it an Olympic sport. Continue reading
Dogs or boys, they both make messes and melt your heart
I have little boys. My friends have doggies. I’m always amazed at how similar our stories are.
For instance, I came home from work and the house was a mess. There were food wrappers everywhere. Then he looked at me with those big loving eyes … Doggy or boy? Could be either.
“You need a bath!” Applies to both. Often. Continue reading
Passwords, user names and a bunny named Hassenpfeffer
Confession: I cannot remember rows of obscure letters and numbers.
Can’t do it.
I can’t even remember my own phone number unless I dial the “imaginary” telephone, first. This creates a problem when I’m trying to remember passcodes. And the broadcast news network I work for has set up one doozy of a system to get through in order to access your own personnel file. Cracking the code is like trying to dig your way into Fort Knox with a spoon. A plastic one. Continue reading
When a dynamic duo has to work alone
The Man Cave is minus the main man, this week. Hubby is on a business trip. His absence is huge, and it’s not just because my feet get unbearably cold at night (there’s not one woman who hasn’t placed freezing cold feet on her husband’s warm calves at night whether he’s a willing foot-warmer or not).
I know single parents who amazingly handle everything. Hubby and I, though, have found that this “team” thing works the best for us. It’s like when super-hero’s work together to battle evil: Continue reading
Gamer Tip: Use the classics to taunt
Overheard as my boys play a heated Halo 4 battle: “Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries!” Continue reading
Heather Bosch's Man Cave 