Tonight, was poker night. For me. As you have surmised, Bill and I have traded places in what would be considered "traditional" roles. The ladies with whom I play are very civilized about the game. We all arrive at 6:30 p.m. at the home of our host. There are about 12 women who participate, so the duty to host occurs about once a year. When you are the host you provide the space, the appetizers, the drinks and dinner. If you are not the host, all you have to do is show up, drink, eat and play. And the food is always top notch. At 10:00 p.m. we all get up and go home. The host does all the clean up. We play during the week and we all have jobs, so it's a good plan.
Since I was wining and dining with my poker pals, Bill had to eat alone. When I got home, I noticed the unmistakable smell of "strange soup" as soon as I opened the door. Bill has a penchant for making this soup. Even though it has varying ingredients every time he makes it, somehow it always smells the same. The base, however, is canned Manhattan Clam Chowder. Always. The kids know the smell and refuse to eat it. That may be the reason that Bill makes it - he knows he gets it all to himself. He can have it.
He loves Manhattan clam chowder. If we are at a restaurant and they have chowder as a starter he will ask the waiter: "Manhattan or New England?" If they answer "New England" he turns up his nose. And, when he orders Manhattan, they must also bring extra hot sauce- Frank's if they have it.
Regardless, it's nights like this that I wished we slept in different rooms. The smell will linger for at least another 24 hours.