We are STILLLLLLLLL harvesting so Brian is out in the field until late. Grandma makes them sandwiches every night and takes them to the field along with a jug of tea, chips, and some sweets. After the ridiculously long harvest we have had, the men are getting to the point of never wanting to see a ham sandwich again. EVER. It will take him until next harvest before he can call a ham sandwich palatable.
The other night he called me at 8:30 and said due to breakdowns they were calling it a night; did I want to feed him or should he go to Grandma's? I wanted to see him, but I had no meat thawed and had planned on fixing myself an egg salad sandwich (keep in mind-no meat, no meal is his theory). He wasn't thrilled so he said he'd see what Grandma was cooking when he switched pick-ups at her house. About fifteen minutes later, I got a call from Grandma. "Your husband is heading home as fast as he can. He left a few minutes ago."
Me: "What are you fixing for supper?"
Grandma: "Fried ham"
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