What I meant to say was …

Posted on Updated on

So, this is a typical dinner prepared by Rose, after working all day. She actually assembles bits and pieces for the evening meal during breaks in her schedule so that everything is good to go by the time she wraps in the evening. I gratefully do the dishes ....
So, to be clear, this is a typical dinner prepared by Rose, after working all day. She actually assembles bits and pieces for the evening meal during breaks in her schedule so that everything is good to go by the time she wraps in the evening. I gratefully do the dishes ….

I recently posted an item marking the last day of Pilates by Rose, the business my wife, Rose Alcantara, has built up over the years. The blog was titled “Closing up shop.”

One of the points I think I made pretty well is that Rose gives her all to everyone who comes into her studio. In fact, I said, she gives so much that by the end of the day — often as late as 8 p.m. –she has nothing left. She is wiped out. Drained. Exhausted.

What I actually  wrote was: “But at the end of the day, I am the one who sees the exhaustion. By 8 p.m. there isn’t a whole lot left in this ball of fire. But it is OK. I understand. …”

It has been brought to my attention that I committed a serious sin of omission.

I think my original statement may have suggested that at the end of the day Rose pours a healthy glass of wine, collapses onto the sofa and zombies out on TV until bedtime.

That would be so wrong.

What I should have added was that, after a busy day, Rose frequently prepares the most spectacular dinners for the two of us. Salads, soups, stir-fries, steaks, souffles, salmon, salsa, scallops, shrimp, stuffed peppers, squash, shepherds pie, sandwiches and stuff … oh, and to all that you can add “fresh ingredients, from scratch.”

And that’s just the “S’s.”

I honestly don’t know how she does it. I mean, yes, she loves to cook. It is right up there with teaching Pilates and yoga on her passion meter.

And, yes, this makes me look really bad on a few of levels:  1) It looks like I don’t appreciate her cooking.  2) So many people right now are thinking “What the heck is he doing while she’s slaving away in the kitchen after an exhausting day of work?” 3) Typical male ….

The response to  No. 1 is: Believe me, I do!

The answer to No. 2 is … um … ah … watching?

And No. 3: Well, duh ….

Trust me, it is intimidating to a prepare meals for a really good cook, one who doesn’t need recipes to create masterpieces.  Mostly I say, “What can I do to help?” And mostly the answer is “Nothing. Set the table.” Sometimes Rose lets me chop veggies or mash potatoes but mostly she has a vision and no time to explain it to kitchen-inepts like me.

So  I always volunteer for clean-up, which I feel is an honor and a privilege, but something that hardly matches Rose’s culinary creativity.

Oh, wait. Tuesday night is my night to make dinner. I take that to mean, buy a fresh  Papa Murphy Take-N-Bake Mediterranean Lite Pizza and make sure it is hot when the last class is done.

I succeed more often than not.

Thank you for letting me clear that up.

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “What I meant to say was …

    Closing up shop « Bound for Belize said:
    January 2, 2014 at 7:39 pm

    […] (OK, in the original post I omitted something very important right here. Read this to find out what.… […]

    Like

    Sonja said:
    January 3, 2014 at 1:02 pm

    Brilliantly done!

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s