Lord of the Flies

We have had an overabundance of black flies in our house lately. It is August after all, and I do remember these black flies from last year. I remember it kept the cats busy and content. Every now and then they would leap through the air, and then sometime later we would find a fly corpse on the floor.
This year, however, things have been different. My husband and I have noticed that these flies are fat and slow. Yesterday, I had one hover in front of my head and practically start a conversation with me. Even the cats are worn out, despondent.
Now I have to briefly change subjects.

I am married to man that I don't deserve. He is crazy about me and he is crazy about his daughter. He has put up with my over-the-top worrying and mood swings. He has put up with my countless, expensive diets that don't stick: low carb, all-raw, all-green, all-vegetable, no dairy. He has put up with my faith in infomercials that has stocked our house with about 20 anti-acne treatments, a gym worth of exercise equipment and a juicer. He almost passed out when I told him that I decided to become a triathlete even though I had never swam, biked or run competitively in my life. Yet he cheers me on through all of this. Truly, I don't deserve him.

He does not have many hobbies, but for some reason he is now extremely interested in Charcuterie, the art of curing meat. He has done little things...like pork confit and duck prosciutto. I have only stood aside and reaped the yummy benefits. However, his baby...the one he has been planning for months is real prosciutto. The kind you make from ham. He has researched the correct ham to buy for a long time. When I came home from a recent trip, there was a very large ham in our refrigerator. For some reason, it had to take up residence (and all the room) in the fridge for a couple weeks. Just as I was about to get really pissed, the ham came out, went through a bath of a mine's-worth of salt, and was hung in our basement. I know...great for the home sale. After I turned my nose up at the prospect of bugs and rodents eating this ham, he assured me that peppercorns were the perfect and only deterrent he needed. Ok. Whatever. I didn't read the book. I was just ready to have my fridge room back to store the 2 pounds I kale that I needed for my latest fad...green smoothies.

Yesterday, my husband came home from work and napped for a while. This was not like him. After some probing, I learned he had a tough meeting a work. I was having a tough day too, so we left it alone. After baby girl came home from daycare and we started knocking back a few adult beverages to erase the day, the truth came out. That morning, my husband discovered that the ham was spontaneously generating the fat flies that have been threatening our very lives. He was sorry. He was sad that he put so much work into something and it failed.
I tried to be a good wife and not make fun of him. I kind of failed at that too.

You know, my husband is often told that he should become a chef, caterer or some other kind of food business slave. "You should cook for rich people." He HATES hearing this. He and I both know that once you try to make a living out of something you love, that love dies quickly. You might as well sell your soul. He wants to continue this love, charcuterie, as a hobby to share with our family and friends. He wants them to taste something other than Oscar Meyer...he wants them to taste his effort and his care. He wants to teach that the most perfect tasting things, like wine, take time and patience.

I really, really felt sorry for him.
Hey love, "you should grow flies for rich people."