Stick with me, okay?
We were having one of those busy weekends. Which normally involves me trying to squeeze a lot, into a little.
And whenever I said my plans out loud, Matthew just sort of looked at me, quietly.
I like being at this point. I like being able to know just how he feels. I like knowing just what he would say - if he did happen to say anything at all.
You sure you want to do all that?
But I'm stubborn, so I tend to push through those comments and stares and do the things I have planned anyway. Even if it makes me tired and cranky.
Working. on. that.
We had a potluck to go too and obviously, the rule of a potluck is to bring something. Which to me, is one of the best parts.
The question was, when on earth would I have time to actually make something? I was out of town until an hour before the gathering.
"I could make something", he said.
I get a little territorial in the kitchen.
And the truth is, the hubs can cook. He's made maple salmon that's finger lickin' good. And I swear, he's the only person I know that makes scrambled eggs perfectly - every.single.time. There is an art to this y'all, cooked but not dry, wet but not raw.
Though I do think if it were up to him, we'd eat sausage and peppers - err day.
"I could make something."
I could hear that little voice inside, "Loosen up Maeve, loosen up control. You ain't the boss around here."
I gave in.
"I'll make macaroni salad!"
All I was imagining were thick, gloppy, white noodles swimming in mayo with maybe a few diced up veggies squished in-between. But really, all I could see was mayo, so much mayo, and white noodles.
My apologies if I sound like a food snob. I actually do like macaroni salad, promise.
But, I also have a huge crush on fresh ingredients and whole foods and healthy recipes. I get excited when food is plated nicely on white plates. Sometimes, often, I read cookbooks before bed.
But, I always crave Chick fil A on Sundays. And, I'd finish an entire bag of oreos if you let me.
But, really babe? Macaroni salad? I feel like it's the fruit cake or jello mold at Christmas that folks smile and walk past.
And all of my life, I've fought against those things. And the reasons why go deeper than a potluck side dish. [I'll save that for another blog]
But dear ones, I chose to surrender. Even though I worried. I worried how that macaroni salad would turn out more than I'd like to admit. I let my man make the dish he wanted and I went on my merry way and came back right as we were supposed to leave for our potluck.
And guess what this snob found in the fridge, in a big red bowl covered in plastic wrap?
Chick fil A and Oreos.
No, not really. Though that would have been sort of awesome. Weird, yes. But awesome.
I found wheat pasta, with fresh veggies, in a light, homemade, vinaigrette dressing.
No mayo, no Kraft noodles.
Foot. in. mouth.
For the record, I eat mayo and Kraft. In fact, I think we have a container of Kraft mayo in our fridge.
As we gathered and passed dishes and swapped stories I felt giddy, as I normally do when folks gather around table. Something powerful happens, truly.
And just when I thought I had learned my lesson, that it's clear I need to let go a little, loosen the reigns, not be so completely controlling - He threw one more curve ball in there.
One dear friend smiled and sweetly asked, "Who made the pasta salad? It's delicious."