Much Depends on Dinner

I ran into a colleague today who told me how our conversation about dinner changed her. I listened, nodded, and felt like a fraud. I have been completely out of the family dinner mode. It’s as if having guests over knocked me for a loop. It’s not that I haven’t fixed dinner; it just hasn’t been that often or that much of a family thing. It seems that for one reason or another we weren’t together around the table.

It all started last Tuesday when I picked The Husband up from the station with the news that we were eating out that night. That’s how it starts, and it’s downhill from there. Thursday he was home late, so The Girl and I shared a steak. Dorte came over on Friday, and we ate out again. Saturday The Husband was at his studio again. That left Sunday: I roasted a chicken on the grill and the wind blew out the flame. The grill got down to 200F before I noticed the problem. Then the meat thermometer went bust. We recovered, but it wasn’t pleasant. Monday night, we ate out with friends in Queens. Finally, tonight I fixed lamb chops, asparagus, and rice. We lingered over regina biscotti from Dorte for dessert

And all of this makes me realize, again, that it’s not a family dinner. It's all of them, back to back. It’s the ritual and the routine. It’s what can be depended upon, looked forward to, and expected.

So, tomorrow night we’re having dinner out with Desirée and Sarah. Then I’m having the special colonoscopy diet on Thursday night. [Was that too much information?] I think Evan is having a studio night on Friday. I might be meeting Chrystèle for dinner and French practice on Saturday. How am I going to make this work?


SF Mom of One said...

Maybe it's about dinner and not-dinner. You have the intention and really the habit too. But if you were really slavish about sticking to the ritual, it could ruin the beauty of it.

Deb St-Claire said...

I like that. It's funny, though, how the pressure to get dinner is both internal and external. There are my own expectations and then those that subtly (and sometimes not so subtly) come from my husband (hrumph...I mean family).