lesson learned

I was an independent traveler for quite awhile before I went Housewife. I am more than capable of organizing a trip all by myself, but for this trip to Providence… I sort of abdicated. Not intentionally, I just said “whatever you think best, dear” a couple of fifty times while he booked the tickets, chose our seats on the plane, rented a car and made hotel reservations, and next thing I knew, I was at the airport having a How-did-I-get-here moment. I did bring my passport, and pack my own bag (on autopilot: see above – I have a LOT of practice packing), but tickets, credit cards, vouchers etc were all DrBob’s responsibility and I had no knowledge of any of it.

It was kind of nice. I wouldn’t want to make a habit of it, but just the once, I enjoyed getting to sit back and stare into space and let the Big Strong Man handle everything.

Until we’d boarded the plane and found our seats and the flight attendant appeared with a sheaf of papers and said, “Mrs. Lala? You requested the Hindu meal?”

Note to self: Big Strong Man has a sense of humor. This is not always a good thing.

Food: minute-steaks, which are just pieces of meat (pork, in this case, but any kind will do) small enough to cook through in about six minutes; mashed potatoes; parsley carrots (yes, again. This will be our usual side dish until the dratted grocery store gets some decent green beans, or until Hell freezes over. Whichever comes first); mushroom gravy: take the steaks out of the frying pan, add a bit of sunflower oil. Fry chopped up onions and sliced mushrooms for a few minutes, then put some potato-water in a little jar, stir in some flour, shake vigorously, and dump in the pan. Add a bit more potato-water and some salt, bring to a boil, stir for one minute. Voilà.

Also, one cucumber salad, made with immense pride by your 7-year-old assistant: sliced cucumbers, salt, a tiny bit of sugar, a splash of cider vinegar, and a sprinkle of dill. Maybe some pepper, or peffer, as he likes to call it (if the English and German words for something are similar, he’ll just booge them together to save brain-space, thus: pepper + pfeffer = peffer; bee + biene = bean; muscles + muskeln = muskles).

Song: The Wiggle Wiggle Song, by Haffi Haff. This engagingly weird little gem was a finalist, but didn’t win, so it’s not the song Iceland will be sending to Eurovision. Pity, because the song they are sending? Well, it’s… not Scottish, if you know what I mean.

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2 responses to “lesson learned

  • Melanie

    Funny, I regularly enjoy the Big Strong Man thing and let Mr. do all the organizing/booking/paying for all of our trips. He’s quite good at it and he would NOT be able to sit back and relax while I take care of it, so it’s his job. My family was all concerned that he was bossing me and I was losing my independence. HA! I think I have proven, to myself and any onlookers, that I am perfectly capable of travelling alone, living alone, having a perfectly functioning life. Nothing to prove, thanks.

    However, I am completely in charge of packing for Melanie Jr. Cause I have ovaries so I know what she needs. How did that happen?

    Glad you’re back, missed your posts.

  • alala

    Yeah, see, I consider it “division of labor,” one of the key advantages to being married, as far as I can see. Mr. Husband apparently considers it an opportunity for mischief.

    For the record, the Hindu dinners were quite good, but the snacks were deeply weird, and also, I suspect, not wholly authentic.

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