Salmon Man

One of the readers of this blog, Heather, who started the whole Juan thing 7 months ago and apparently fancies herself a comedienne, wrote and asked me if I ran off with the maintenance guy because I haven’t blogged in awhile.

Heather’s funny, isn’t she?

In all fairness, Heather has never met Yummy Man, so she is unable to realize that Yummy Man is just too yummy to leave………

even for a guy who cooks AND fixes major appliances.

So.

No.

I didn’t run off with the maintenance guy.

I’ve just been rather uninspired lately.

Don’t know why.  Maybe it’s our new schedule here that is anything BUT a schedule.

Yummy Man will work 4 days one week, get 3 days off, then work 2 days, then get off 4 days.

And it’s never consistent.

And that drives me bonkers.

The kids wake up each morning, not sure if we’re going to church today or getting haircuts.  Are we doing school today or this “our Saturday” even though it’s Wednesday?

Confused?

Now you understand.

And I’m supposed to come up with witty blog fodder with all that inconsistency going on? 

Right!

But here’s something……

Yummy Man has been on me for YEARS to find a good company to buy fresh, Alaskan salmon from. 

YEARS!

So the other night I found a place to get some, priced it, and ordered a 5-pound box of it.

I will not even ATTEMPT to describe the excruciating-ness, financially, of what I went through to please Yummy Man.  It was physically painful to give them my credit card number, knowing how much the salmon was going to cost.

With Next Day Air and salmon per pound almost the same price as gold per pound.

It arrived on Tuesday and last night, I made a Salmon Pasta Cheese thingy.

But I cooked that salmon like I had a newborn baby in the pan.  I could NOT let it burn!  I could NOT let it stick!  I could NOT walk away from it!  I could NOT put the wrong seasoning on it!  I could NOT turn the heat up too high or down too low!  It was like there was a hundred-dollar-bill in that pan!

I was exhausted afterwards!

And when Yummy Man sat down to eat that meal, I waited expectantly, eyebrows up, face anticipatory, rear end on the edge of my seat, awaiting his pronouncement of the quality and sheer wondrousness of the salmon.

And he said……

“Kinda tastes the same as the canned stuff, doesn’t it?”

And to keep myself from RUNNING to the knife drawer and choosing the sharpest one to sink into his back, I started sputtering things like this to make myself feel better about the money that was spent…..

“Well, it is MUCH healthier than the canned stuff!”

“And if you get a nice-sized chunk and chew it, I think you can tell that it is much tastier.  You can!”

“Also, it was wild-caught which is the best you can get….I mean, we bought it off the fishermen, basically!…..the fishermen who apparently have penchants for BMWs and 72-inch TV screens!”

“And the kids like it and it is keeping their bodies so healthy and strong!  Ya know, so they can scream louder when they’re mad and stuff!”

And then I wanted to excuse myself so that I could go cry in private.  But I didn’t because that stuff was STINKIN’ GOOD and I didn’t want everyone else to eat it before I got a second helping.