I’ve been talking about it all week. I bought the ground turkey on Sunday, and could think of nothing else at work all day on Monday. I crunched the numbers: Wednesdays, which must include homework, dinner, and driving time. Dinner has to be on the table by 5:15 or we’re not going to make it. It was 3pm, but I thought if I left work by 4 I could make it work. I’ve never been very good at math. We had tacos that night.to get home, at least 10 minutes of prep, 60 minutes cooking time – 90 minutes minimum was the best I could do. We have a very small window between school and karate on Mondays and
Then Tuesday night, I decided to scrap my plan to hit the gym after work and head home to loaf. But my husband successfully convinced me to meet him for dinner somewhere that was showing our alma mater play basketball (again with the basketball). The kids and I were game, but the evening turned out to be an unmitigated disaster that ended with tantrums and tears and groundings and destroyed psyches and not nearly enough mind-numbing alcohol.
On Wednesday, I was determined.
I informed my workplace that I needed a half day off to attend to personal matters. First, I went to the gym, and turbo-kick-boxed the shit out of any lingering frustration about the previous night's dinner fiasco. Then I scoffed at the nasty gym locker room and went back home to enjoy my beautiful shower. Have I talked about how much I love my shower? It’s my happy place. After that bliss, with my remaining time off, I began to construct the loafen meat masterpiece.
Who wouldn’t feel better when smelling this?
I have to say that there was a time in my life when I mocked the likes of Jessica Seinfeld and her subversive vegetable maneuvers, but then I met this clown
who does not care for inconsistencies in her food. She prefers that all of her food be uniform in color, preferably on the beige side of the spectrum. I put those beautiful vegetables into my food processor, and they came out looking noticeably less appealing. But I must say, there are not too many things I can think of that do look appealing when loafed up with raw meat and eggs.
The meal was…. anticlimactic. I chose not to battle with the girl over the difference between a nibble and a taste. I chose to focus on the yummy sounds emanating from the menfolk.
As for me, now that my craving has been satiated; I don’t think I’ll need to make meatloaf again for a long while. But I pity the fool who gets between me and my leftover sandwich tomorrow.
In my family, we have this thing where if you find yourself in the middle of a really boring story, you say it’s a turkey sandwich. I think that with this post, I’ve renamed the phenomenon. Welcome to my meatloaf.