Yeah, yeah, another... Awwwwwwww moment. At least there will be no Space Chicken sightings.
For the Valentine's Day record, Da-da's wife exhibits so many superlatives it makes your head spin... except when she gets on Da-da about emptying the trash. And scotchguarding the cat. C'mon, Da-da LOVES scotchguarding the cat, but these things take time.
Anyway, Da-da tried to think of ONE THING wrong with her (Ma-ma, not the cat), and all he came up with was that, besides that righteous left hook, she smelled like smoked cheese for two days during her two pregnancies. Seriously. Women's pregnancies (as opposed to men's) have chemical and somatic changes that are mind-boggling, not the least of which is the dreaded, "SMOKED CHEESE SYNDROME." Some pregnant women smell like smoked cheese, while others smell like pepperoni, proscuitto, East Rutherford, NJ... etc. Factually, proto-Ma-ma was redolent of either a five-year-old smoked gouda or some kind of ancient Basque manchego; it was both FASCINATING and DISGUSTING at the same time, and left Da-da wondering what wine to pair Ma-ma with, a viognier or a montrachet? On our budget, we're lookin' at NIGHTTRAIN, if you can find it. Serve chilled.
Speaking of fascinating and disgusting...