Chopped!

After 33 years of marriage you’d think Steve and I would be used to all of our annoying habits “fun quirks.” 

For example, I’ve gotten used to the fact that every time Steve sneezes, it will not be 1-3 times, like a normal person with appropriate sinuses.

It will be upward of 10 times, like some serial sneezer.

And Steve knows that when he tells a story, I may correct and/or finish the story for him.

You’re welcome, Steve.

But now that Steve is retired and we’re spending more time together, we’ve discovered new “fun quirks” about each other.

It was last Wednesday night and I was watching Ted Lasso. 

Or I should say, I was trying to watch Ted Lasso.

I couldn’t exactly hear Ted’s witty banter or Roy’s signature expletives because of all the noise in the kitchen.

Is somebody remodeling my kitchen?

(Sidenote: That would be awesome!)

CHOP! CHOP! CHOP! CHOP! CHOP!

I paused the show and called out. “What you doing, hon?” 

CHOP! CHOP! CHOP! CHOP! CHOP! CHOP!

The pounding increased to a furious pace.

I put my hands over my ears and headed to the kitchen. 

Strewn out across the kitchen counter was a bounty of red leaf, arugula, and spinach. We had recently purchased a Lettuce Grow Farm Stand, and our stand runneth over with lettuce.

Steve put down his knife and smiled. “Just chopping,” he said.

Chopping or massacring?

Geez, Steve, what did that lettuce ever do to you?

I picked up one of the microscopic pieces. “But why do you need to chop it so small?”

“Because that’s how it’s supposed to be,” he said, giving me that look.

According to Steve, my salads look like a bowl of palm fronds.

I returned to the family room and Steve returned to axing arugula.

CHOP! CHOP! CHOPPITY! CHOP! CHOP! CHOP!

I tried to watch Ted Lasso, but it was no use. 

It was like I was living in a Benihana

(Sidenote: That would be awesome!) 

(Sidesidenote: Not the sound of excessive chopping. The delicious flying meat!)

When I went off to work the next day, Steve was up and chopping.

When I came home from work, Steve was still chopping.

“Almost done,” he smiled.

Has that guy been choppin’ all the livelong day?!

 In good news, I’ve discovered that if I put on noise canceling headphones and take shelter in the upstairs closet, the chopping is merely a repetitive dull thud.

Like waterboarding.

However, I shouldn’t complain because my vegetarian Paul Bunyan sends me off to work each day with an assortment of the most delicious and exquisitely chopped salads.

And as anyone knows, if you want the best (and tiniest) salad in all the land…

ABC!

(Always be chopping!)