When his wife, Jo, is offered her dream job, Lincoln Menner leaves his thriving landscape business in Los Angeles and moves to Rochester, New York. This will be his chance to start over, spend a little time with their three-year-old daughter, and finally do things right at home.
But Linc had no idea what it really meant to be a househusband: to stay home every day, folding laundry, cleaning soap scum, and teaching his little girl to use the potty. To be ignored at parties by his wife’s colleagues who see him as just a homemaker. Though he soon has the house humming, Linc misses the outside world. Most of all he misses Jo, who works too late and barely notices the fabulous dinners he slaves over. Drastic action must be taken to make his efficiently run house truly a home, sweet home . And Linc knows he is just the man for the job!
From the Paperback edition.
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|Title of eBook: Househusband||Series: Househusband, , #1|
|Release Date: 12-18-2007|
|Allowed Countries (hover)|
|Publisher: Random House Publishing Group|
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This is a good day. Though it began as gray and sluggish as simmering oatmeal, it has steadily grown into an energizing, high-speed puree, ever since noon, when I got the phone call from Jo.
“Can you handle a dinner for five?”
“My boss and his entourage.”
“Let me get my calendar.”
“I mean tonight,” she said.
“Tonight! You mean five hours from now?”
“I’m sorry. Can you do it?”
“Of course I can do it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure.”
“I really can take them out, Lincoln, but it’s Jerry and his group, and they always prefer a home-cooked meal. And they like your cooking.”
“I can do it,” I said.
On the drive to the grocery store, with Violet listening to a tape of Sesame Street songs in her car seat, I decided on an Indian chicken masala, which, after being thrown together, could simmer for hours with an occasional stirring while I cleaned the house. I’d serve it with basmati rice and some kind of cool, astringent salad that would cut the curry.
Jo had said the house was already clean, that it wouldn’t take much to get it ready for guests, but she doesn’t understand these things. It wasn’t dinner-party clean, it wasn’t clean like a fresh hotel room, everything aligned and pulled tight and poofed up, all the collapsed fibers standing upright once again.
So, with my masala simmering on low, I launched into tornado mode, like the Tasmanian Devil on the Bugs Bunny videos. I’ve learne