How To Make A Salad or Why does my husband lack imagination?

Around noon today, when he realized he was hungry, my husband went into the kitchen to see what we had to eat. I don’t keep many quick-fix meals around anymore, so he gave up after a bit, and stopped staring blankly into the fridge and food shelves.

“Why’d you get lettuce with nothing to go with it?” he asked, walking into the livingroom.

“I got ranch dressing.”

“But we don’t have anything to go with it.”

“We have plenty to go with it.”

“We’re out of bacon bits.”

“I thought we had some, but if we’re out, you could always fry up that turkey bacon and use it to make your own bacon bits.”

“You should have got some stuff to go with the lettuce,” he said, walking down the hall to his office.

We debated for a few more minutes about what one could do to make a salad out of things we already had, but he wasn’t seeing my POV. I sighed loudly, then asked if he wanted me to fix him something to eat.

“Yeah, if you can do it before I have to be in bed.”

“Well, anything in particular in mind?”

No response. He was already sucked back into World of Warcraft. Don’t get me wrong, I love the game too, and I’d rather him spend all his time in Azeroth than be cheating on me, but it’s annoying sometimes.

I gave up asking his opinion and went into the kitchen to boil some hotdogs. When they were done it was wheat bread and sliced white American cheese. Quick and easy. I sent Luna down the hall with his plate and a bottle of ketchup. I put mayo on mine and left Luna’s plain, but I think she begged him for some ketchup.

I ate my food, played some games, did some housework, and chatted on Yahoo with my brother about the salad conversation and creative meal preparation in general.

The hubs ate his food, finished playing his games, griped about the housework that hadn’t been done, and then went to bed.

Fast forward to around five this evening. He’s still in bed, Luna woke up from her nap. I gave her a stick of mozzarella and, when she scarfed that down in like two bites, I gave her the homemade taco salad she’d neglected yesterday.

But I was hungry again as well.

So back into the kitchen I went. I pulled out the refuted bag of lettuce. Now, it’s not just lettuce, mind you. It’s one of those bag salads that’s got shredded carrots and shredded purple cabbage in it. In theory, one could just eat that, and be eating a salad. But, yeah, it’s nice to have “something to go with it.”

I washed out my favorite salad bowl, because it was still dirty from last night’s salted asparagus with Louisiana hot sauce, and proceeded to build a salad: the bag salad (two of my handfuls), the last of the hamburger dill pickles (about a 1/4 cup), some slivers and dices of white onion we had in tupperware (there’s still some left for another meal, about 1/8 cup), two sticks of mozzarella (cut up into thin slices), a few slices of ham lunch meat (rolled up like a cigar and then cut into slivers), a few slices of chicken lunch meat (prepped the same as the ham), shredded “fiesta blend” cheese, an orange (pealed and pulled apart into the natural wedges), and several saltines (hand-crushed). I topped this all off with buttermilk ranch dressing.

I don’t care if it’s just my pregnant taste-buds talking, but this is a very delicious salad. And, wouldn’t you know, it’s like soup from a stone, I made it when we had “nothing to go with it.” I love my husband, but the boy lacks imagination…

Dr. Hook–I swear you could taste the chicken and tomatoes, and the noodles and the marrowbone, but it really wasn’t nothing but some water and potatoes, and the wonderful, wonderful soupstone.

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