I always look forward to Hubby's days off. I feel like they, in a sense, are my days off, too. While a Mother doesn't get to truly have any days off, I look at these two days of the week to be much needed respite for myself, even if they only mean there's an extra pair of hands to help with the baby. Yesterday, to enjoy myself, I had an overwhelming urge to grill salmon. I realize that this may sound silly, but I just wanted to relax over a nice piece of fish.
After Hubby played eighteen holes of golf, I felt like salmon would be a nice reward for myself as it had been a while since I'd made it. Hubby doesn't eat fish, so I knew it was only for myself that I'd be doing it. And it felt good to do something just for me.
Hubby had left at eight in the morning and didn't get home until half past two. I'd been salivating about my fresh catch of the day since I'd woken up, like a dog eyeballing a raw piece of meat after going days without food. Once he came home, I told him of my craving. I was dying for a grilled piece of salmon, with some rice, and a nice homemade yogurt sauce. I love salmon and any time I can have it is a good time.
Off to the grocery store for salmon I went, with its pink hue and flaky texture on my brain the whole ride there. Nothing would stop me from enjoying this; not the slow-as-molasses traffic, not the maniac drivers cutting me off to get to the next red light, not the dumptruck full of tree trunks in front of me, not anything at all. I went straight to the seafood section and picked out a fillet that was slightly more than three-quarters of a pound. It was going to be all mine, just me and this piece of fish I'd been fantasizing about all day. I bought a couple of lemons and some plain yogurt and I was good to go.
The ride home seemed to take forever, the longest ten minutes of my life. I felt drawn to just eat the damned thing raw, but I knew better. Once I arrived home, I fired up the grill and commenced to making my rice in the kitchen. I felt like I needed something more than just plain rice, so I jazzed it up. I put some fresh lemon and some homegrown dill in it. I didn't make a veggie, but I had made a salad instead. After I'd put everything together, I set my place at the table. The baby was napping in the swing outside and Hubby was on the laptop next to him. I knew I'd have some much-needed alone time with my salmon, knowing that the baby was in good hands. Call me crazy, but I just wanted to savor every bite without hearing the cries of a three-month-old and Hubby complaining that it smells like fish. No, no, no...this was my stolen moment of peace, the only one I'd get until Hubby's next day off, the only thing I'd wanted since I'd woken up that morning.
My salad was staying chilled in the fridge, the vinaigrette dressing was on the table by my plate, the rice was cooked and ready to devour. I went to check on my manna on the grill and discovered that it was off. The gas had run out! I ran into the house, turned on the oven, and opened a beer up for myself. I was pissed that I didn't even think to check if we had enough gas. I felt so deflated, like a torn hot air balloon plummeting from the sky into the side of a rocky cliff.
Needless to say, I wound up baking my partially grilled salmon inside the house, making it smell like fish (which I don't like to do). Halfway through my meal, the baby got up from his nap and was hungry. I was still trying to finish my dinner, so Hubby had to feed him, with his own stomach growling from his own hunger. I shoveled the remainder of my "relaxing meal" down my gullet and proceeded to relieve Hubby so he could get something to eat. His dinner was, no surprise here, fast food from the local Mexican place.
What I thought would be a relaxing, uneventful, much-dreamed-about treat for myself turned out to be a lesson for me: ALWAYS MAKE SURE YOU HAVE ENOUGH GAS BEFORE YOU START GRILLING. DUH.