My Weekends
They're becoming routine.
I feel so beat up by the end of each week that most of what I do is in an effort to just get off my feet.
I limp into each weekend all worn out and hope to find some relaxation for the tired mind and body, and in an effort to do that I've found that I've turned into my Grandma and My Dad.
My job is to now make sure that everyone has something to eat.
"I can make you some eggs," I'll say to the first person I see.
Because I also get up hours before anyone else.
Sunday was the day of the big dinner.
Jake was home from school, Sam was kicking around and Kathy and Mom were heading to Bingo. I planned on sleeping until 7:00 (which is considered sleeping in) and then getting what I need for steak, and shrimp scampi over linguine.
There was a hiccup though.
I woke up at 5:00!
So, by the time everyone else woke up I'd already eaten two meals and was ready for bed.
The Bills were on, so the kids took the big television and Melky and I went to sleep. I was up by halftime and headed down to a deathly quiet living room.
"How's it going?" I asked.
"It's not funny," Sam said.
So, the Bills had pooped all over their day.
Ah well.
I had dinner to make!
I also had plenty of time, so in short spurts I marinated the steaks, got the shrimp scampi sauce ready, and finally got the text from Kathy:
"We're on the last game."
Which is my cue to get everything on plates.
And this is where the thoughts of Dad and Grandma kick in.
You don't need anyone to say, "This is good."
You just watch the plates empty.
And you're eating yourself so you know when it tastes right.
That's where you get your inspiration for the week, I guess.
A quiet weekend, an hour of getring things ready and a nice, relaxed dinner with the family.
"Back to work tomorrow," Kathy said.
"Yep."
Everything barking a little less, but it's getting colder now...
...time to start thinking of what I can make next weekend.
What else is there?
I feel so beat up by the end of each week that most of what I do is in an effort to just get off my feet.
I limp into each weekend all worn out and hope to find some relaxation for the tired mind and body, and in an effort to do that I've found that I've turned into my Grandma and My Dad.
My job is to now make sure that everyone has something to eat.
"I can make you some eggs," I'll say to the first person I see.
Because I also get up hours before anyone else.
Sunday was the day of the big dinner.
Jake was home from school, Sam was kicking around and Kathy and Mom were heading to Bingo. I planned on sleeping until 7:00 (which is considered sleeping in) and then getting what I need for steak, and shrimp scampi over linguine.
There was a hiccup though.
I woke up at 5:00!
So, by the time everyone else woke up I'd already eaten two meals and was ready for bed.
The Bills were on, so the kids took the big television and Melky and I went to sleep. I was up by halftime and headed down to a deathly quiet living room.
"How's it going?" I asked.
"It's not funny," Sam said.
So, the Bills had pooped all over their day.
Ah well.
I had dinner to make!
I also had plenty of time, so in short spurts I marinated the steaks, got the shrimp scampi sauce ready, and finally got the text from Kathy:
"We're on the last game."
Which is my cue to get everything on plates.
And this is where the thoughts of Dad and Grandma kick in.
You don't need anyone to say, "This is good."
You just watch the plates empty.
And you're eating yourself so you know when it tastes right.
That's where you get your inspiration for the week, I guess.
A quiet weekend, an hour of getring things ready and a nice, relaxed dinner with the family.
"Back to work tomorrow," Kathy said.
"Yep."
Everything barking a little less, but it's getting colder now...
...time to start thinking of what I can make next weekend.
What else is there?
Comments