everything was going great today. i've been off from work for a week after carpal tunnel release surgery on non dominant hand. after thinking long and hard how to make for a good evening, i figured on making fajitas on the big green egg.
a quick trip to the market yielded the ingredients. 4 pm rolls around and i quickly stuff the dishwasher and sweep away all the junk food wrappers into the waste in anticipation of my beautiful DW's arrival.
4:15 and i hear the keys. cant remember recently the last time i was so happy to see her. well, she came in, dropped her bags and proceeded to her happy place (walk in closet) getting work clothes together for tomorrow. after about 15 min, i holler in "babe, you know youre in charge of most of the work for dinner" , response " well, i do now". 5 min later shes still out of sight. now, frustration is beginning.
finally, she emerges. to the kitchen. slices and dices. working her magic with the chicken, onions, and peppers. then she gets a call from a church member and process slows to a snails pace. meanwhile, the BGE is fiercely awaiting. i walk in and give the universal speed it up sign and a few minutes later finally, she's got it all ready.
i take 14" cast iron skillet with 3 tsp oil out to the grill. mmm. next is the browning of the chicken for a few minutes. a little more oil, then the veggies. a few more minutes then the premixed fajita mix. CANT WAIT!!! F-A-J-I-T-A-S!!!
Finally, time to take them off. i run inside, grab [her] oven mitt. made sure to leave the door cracked since im bandaged up with limited mobility in one hand.
grab it up and dash the 20 feet to the porch, up 2 steps, another 10 feet to the door, start to kick it open and BAALLLAMMMOEEE!!!!!!!
The heavy __ cast iron skillet starts to tilt. in the (what seemed like)45 minutes that it took to fall, i saw 12 different scenarios play out. the second worst of them happened. skillet, fajita mix, onions, sauce... EVERYTHING on the inner door step. the next 20 secs were filled with so many [moderator edit], that if my mother heard she'd disown me at the tender age of 35.
dw was in as much shock as could be expected. she was johnny on the spot! mop, paper towels, dust pan and broom in hand, springing into action.
after some quick thinking, i threw some frozen burgers on and suggested low carb burgers, beans, and mexican rice.
still moderately P/O'd, im looking for any way out, including blaming her for the "no grip" mitt.
after the burgers are done, we're sitting at the table, and now the little devil on my shoulder is cheering, while the angel is pleading. finally, i build up the courage and open my mouth.
"you know, its only 30% your fault"!
she let out a big smile and says, "ok baby, i'll take that"!
maybe it'll still be a good evening.