We’re in the kitchen. We’re trying a new brand of breaded processed frozen fish, but have discovered, alas, that we are out of tartar sauce.

No problem, we’ve both cooked for a living before, and have faced down worse situations on Friday Fish-Fry night. (Running out of tartar sauce? Hah. Try running out of fish!)

So we gather the needed ingredients (mayonnaise, relish and lemon juice), and pull out the trusty wooden spoon.

After inquiring about how long we have owned said spoon, and why it might, after six years, be time to buy a replacement spoon, and also discussing what is the correct size of the handle and the appropriate curvature of the bowl of the ideal wooden spoon…AFTER this….

My husband turns to me and says something about how wooden spoons are green. I ask “Oh, like recyclable?” He goes on and says something about renewable resource blahblahblah.

And after this thought-out theory on his part, I come back with, “Well, yeah. But you could recycle a wooden spoon, right?”

He looks me, and shrugs, “Yeah, I guess you could recycle it. You could sharpen it and make it a zombie shank, I suppose.”

Of course. Zombies.

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Tags: Humor, marriage, relationships, Wooden spoon, zombies