Chew, Chew!

The Meal Train is firing up the locomotive again.  

I should explain. Shortly after we discovered my wife's cancer, our friends and family began a Meal Train. 

Gents, I know you know nothing about this but this is one of the countless things women do when confronting a crisis. They gather, they discuss, they dissect a problem and then, without ego or the detrimental effects of excess testosterone, they devise and implement a solution.

This is why they are our better halves. 

And this is why we should elect more women, though not like MTG, Lauren Boebert or that cow's ass Elise Stefanik, to office.

But I digress. The Meal Train is a scheduled day of the week where a dinner, either cooked at home or from a local restaurant, arrives at our doorstep so my wife, fatigued by chemo and radiation, nor I, hobbled by the implantation of the Smith & Nephew Titanium 700KSeries Hip Replacement joint, have to do any of the cooking.

We love the Meal Train. Especially when it involves a broasted chicken from some famous take out place in Los Feliz. Or Beth and Colin's Buervos, a South African sausage treat. Or even if it's In and Out Burgers from the place conveniently located on Venice Blvd, near the intersection with Culver Blvd.

As we like to indulge in gallows humor at the Siegel household, I've often told my wife, while stuffing my face with Louisiana Hot Wings from Wing Stop...

"These meals are great, you should've got cancer years ago."

While the food is great and the price absolutely can't be beat, each dinner comes with an incredible dessert. And that is the undeniable and sweet knowledge that we are surrounded by people who care and who clearly love us very much.

Well, they love Debbie.