Oops. I Did It. Again.

So, I am in a local market, the purveyors of fine organic cheeses, fine organic produce and fine organic meats.

Fine meaning overpriced, yes.

I am discussing local cheeses with the Cheese Man, who is clearly charmed by me, which means that he is mid-fifties with a bit to be desired, yes.

We are sampling hard goat cheese while I try to remain suave, which is difficult while stifling the urge to gag. I realize that I am in over my head with the Cheese Man, largely because I am not a great fan of cheese in general, let alone cheese that has been expressed from goats and somehow, hardened.

A small group has gathered, interested in learning about the cheeses and the pairings. I thank the Cheese Man, too profusely perhaps, but I really need to get away from the cheeses and focus on something more palatable, such as liver.

I explain that I will return in a few days with my Partner to make our selection. Cheese Man looks a little crestfallen. About my Partner.

Sweet Holy Moses, did I really say that?

I want to say I don't mean my Partner-Partner, I mean my Catering Partner, who is my Lovely DIL, which means she is married to my son, which means I have a Son, which means, oh forget it.

Won't he be impressed when I show up in a day or two with a Hot 20-something brunette?

Howdy, Pardner!