Had the privilege of dining with Oreggano and Cream of Tartar and, while dining, we decided to do some couples therapy – with me as their therapist. “This is going to be good,” Cream of Tartar excitedly stated, “Better take notes for the blog.”
Last weekend, Cream of Tartar was planning to go on a fishing trip and, as a courtesy, picked up a cup of coffee for Oreggano prior to departing. “Very nice gesture,” I commented. “Right, except it was from 7-11 and it was black. Exactly how I don’t like it,” stated Oreggano. “I got it from there because it was free.” “The coffee was free?” I paraphrased (professional therapy standard). “Yes,” Cream of Tartar confirmed, “Because I was in uniform. It’s the thought that counts.” “That is true,” I validated, like most good therapists do and then added, “But if you’re not really thinking, it isn’t a thought, thus, doesn’t count.”
As the story of the fishing trip continued, I maintained the professional stance – head nodding, occasional ‘uh huh’ interjected, and taking notes. They got to the part when Cream of Tartar came home one day and six hours later than planned. “It was daylight savings time, so we lost one hour. It should have really been two when I called,” Cream of Tartar defended his Tartardiness. Not a fan of punctuality, I did my best to remain neutral. “That is not going to cut it,” Oreggano replied. “The traffic was bad?” Cream of Tartar attempted, yet again, to defend his position. “Nope, not buying it,” Oreggano stood firm on her stance. “When he called to tell me how late he might be I responded, ‘I’m pissed.'” Cream of Tartar giggled and replied, “Oh, that’s not all she said, but we’ll leave that out of the report.”
Being trained in relationships, Cream of Tartar changed the subject and the channel on the TV, to one of Oreggano’s favorite cop shows. “This is Oreggano’s dream,” he told me. “She watches it all of the time.” Oreggano humbly replied, “Not really. I mean I once thought it would be cool to be a cop, but, you know.” The show continued and Cream of Tartar made an observation, “Usually, she is yelling at the TV, saying things like, ‘Shoot the mother fucker! Loader pull over!'” “Ah, that’s cute,” I replied. Cream of Tartar turned to OregganO and said, “You’re not saying the things you say when other people aren’t here,” and then made a ‘tsk, tsk, tsk’ sound.
A little while later, Cream of Tartar decided to shave the center section of the hair, leaving a lovely man-made male-patterned baldness appearance. Oreggano was not pleased, but Cream of Tartar and I could not be happier. Being in the market for must stache hair, I requested the clippings. “Sure, you can have them. They’re kind of clean,” Cream of Tartar informed me as he was applying product to and teasing his remaining locks.
As the night was coming to an end, I was discussing hair product with Oreggano and Cream of Tartar, who had taken his bald ass to the other room to tie flies, said, “Main and Tame.” “Really? It was what you suggest? I asked. “Yep, amazing,” Cream of Tartar confirmed. it was on this note, that I grabbed my (actually, Cream of Tartar’s) bag of hair and headed home to prepare for Thanks Patrick’s Day – one of Oreggano’s favorite holidays.