Leg of Lamb

Published July 25, 2013 by emotionless brain

Growing up my mother would regularly make lamb chops, and at least three times a year she would make Leg of Lamb. I have very fond memories of my mothers amazing cooking abilities. If I had an oven my children would also have fond memories of my cooking (sadly I have not had an oven that works since we moved into this house). The “land lord” does not care.

This is not about all of that, Mr. S purchased a Leg of Lamb Saturday, he decided to make it last night. After work he went to the store to purchase the last remaining ingredients, went home and composed the masterpiece. Mr.S and I have not spoken much since the weekend (which I might add was very confusing to me). I had invited him over on Monday evening to which he declined. Tuesday I did not hear from him. Wednesday middle of the day I got a text message from him of a project he had been working on, and we began our usual banter of texting, teasing and flirting.

I had to go to Home Depot to get a few things, and he was guiding me on what kind of Epoxy to purchase for one of my projects. When I could not find clear epoxy he out of the blue texted me “I have some here why don’t you swing by”, to which I sadly replied “can not, have to get my kids only had enough time budgeted for necessary shopping”. He said “ok”. I refuse to put anything ahead of my kids, nothing, nada, zip, zilch. My kids are number one (apparently there is a plethora of single moms out there that put their kids behind their desires, not me I refuse).

Mr. S sent me a picture of his Leg of Lamb before he put it in the oven, it looked so good! I love leg of lamb, so later I texted Mr.S, “it would be nice to chat in person, I would not refuse a late visitor”. To which he quickly replied “ok, around 9?” You can imagine my excitement, I quickly began picking up around the house, company was due to arrive.

At 2030 I took a quick bath, it had been a long hot day (yes even sitting inside an office). I looked down and my feet were blue, so I sent Mr.S a text with a picture of my feet and said my “feet are turning smurf”, while I think he is amused by my quirky humor he does not often reply. At 2100 he texted “be there shortly”, to which I replied “door is open, I am in my room”. I was reading and having a glass of Midori. I love Midori, it is one of the nectar of the gods. Next thing he was peeking around the corner with a big smile on his face. He said “I come bearing gifts”. He brought the epoxy and a dish of his leg of lamb with lamb, potatoes, carrots, mushrooms. It was devine, leave out that I was hungry (I had missed lunch, and was shopping at dinner time).

For two hours we laid on my bed talking, catching up from having not spoken since Sunday morning. I would have welcomed intimacy (of course we were both horny), it was just a fulfilling to lay there touching and talking. It is difficult to balance the different levels of intimacy, when the chemistry is there between two people (and obviously it is with Mr.S and myself) sex becomes a driving force. I love my sex, and when it is good it is good. Part of having a mature relationship is learning that sex cannot be the driving force, there has to be other types of intimacy. This I already knew, but was a concept my ex could never grasp. As warm blooded mammals with a higher level of developed consciousness we have to over come the primal urges (sleep on that for a while before you respond because there are more people that are oblivious to this concept than not). Sorry squirrel moment again, let me go take my morning meds.

We chatted, we touched, we tickled, we laughed, it was romantic, and normal. As the night drew on we both were getting tired. He left and I went to bed with a full cup of life.

Life is good, I am employed, my kids are much happier at the new day camp, and my cuppa isa fulla!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


2 comments on “Leg of Lamb

  • All sounds good, my friend. Do you remember when we made cheesecake when you were living with me? Either that, or (I still have) the fancy recipe with which you wanted to make cheesecake. Yum. Hungry.

    You haven’t written about how your resignation was accepted? Give you a hard time?

    Life is good, Furbabies are good, so are feathers, and the beautiful children in day camp. I hope they are deep sleepers! 🙂

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