the quest for dinner

Sitting at work on a regular busy Monday, I pulled out a sunny yellow post-it and my cloudy black gel pen and tried to make a grocery list. Juice, cereal, bread, cheese... my boss's door squeaked opened. He was done with his 2-hour 3 o'clock meeting early at 4:30, which didn't bode well for my grocery store trip. He strode over to my desk, and began downloading instructions to me, things from his meeting and things it seemed he had been storing for weeks. Several other coworkers were drawn to the booming confidence of his voice and promptly took their place in line around him, waiting for their chance. We all jump when he crawls out of his work cave, as it so rarely happens. Like questioning moths to the answer flame, we fly.

An hour and a half and an improtu staff meeting later, at 6 pm I finally walked to my car. I snuck out while my boss was talking to his partner, with only a quick "call me if you need me" and a sly smile as I slinked passed them in the hall, laptop in tow. It was so late, I talked myself into going on home, skipping the errand, believing I had enough food at home to scrounge up a decent meal for my husband and me.

Husband was already here, changing out of his gray slacks into shorts and New Balances to take Bub for a walk around our cul-de-sacced neighborhood. We walked, sweating, and talked about "cash for clunkers," how confusing the government's instructions were (typical), and how confused all his customers were today. They did have one successful trade-in though-- one more ugly gas-guzzler off the highways of America. I wasn't hungry yet as I hadn't gotten out for lunch until 2, and he ate closer to 3.

When we got home again, the red clock on the empty stove told us it was 6:45. We discussed dinner, and about twenty minutes later had come up with nothing. Frozen lasagna and... nope, the leftover asparagus is bad. Popcorn shrimp and... no, only enough fries for one person. Quiche takes an hour to make. There's stuff for tacos, but we had Mexican last night. Rice? With what? And there's no salad-- we ate a lot of salad last week apparently. Should we go to the store? By the time we did that, and cooked, it would be 8:30.

Fine, we decided, we'll go out. But where? No sandwiches and no Mexican, those were my requirements. Husband was less specific. That greek place over near the fire station? Wow, it was crowded for a Monday, cars spilling into the station's parking lot. The diner in the center of town? No, they have $2 pitcher and chicken wings on Monday, and we'll never get a table. Ok, how about the deli near our house? A last resort. A shrimp salad wrap for me with potato soup, although it really should have been called red onion and cheddar cheese slop. I'm still tasting it. Husband had some meaty-cheesy type sandwich, and chicken soup, and french fries too... all that debate and decision-making made him hungry.

We're spoiled for choice, knowing that so many don't have this luxury, the luxury of too much food. Looking at my pantry you wouldn't know that, though. Tomorrow I'll make it to Kroger, tomorrow that list will be checked off one by one.