For weeks I had been excitedly discussing my ever-evolving recipe for the upcoming chili cook-off. It was to be my first foray into the world of food competition. The food network had nothing on me! I was so wrapped up in the exhilaration and anticipation that I forgot all about what my husband, Mike, might be thinking of; something entirely different from my meager crock pot follies.
That same afternoon was the finale of the season’s NASCAR race; the Sprint Cup Championship was to be decided. It was down to two drivers in the chase, two legendary racers battling it out for the top spot, the opportunity for greatness. To put it mildly, Mike loves NASCAR.
Mike can rattle off most of the Sprint Cup drivers off the top of his head. He is also very familiar with the Nationwide series, the gateway to the Sprint Cup; he can tell you a lot about the truck series, too. How could I forget that? How could I not remember that this was supposed to be Mike’s day, Mike’s opportunity to enjoy an afternoon in front of the television watching “the boys”?
I sequestered myself in the kitchen, pouring, taste-tasting and fretting over every detail. It was not until close to time to go to the event that I realized Mike was in the living room, watching the beginning of the race and preparing to record its end. It hit me like a ton of bricks that Mike was in the quiet process of foregoing the race of the year to attend an event that was merely a lark for me.