Knowing what I want

Last night, children, husband, and I converged at the house about 7:15 pm from different practices and events. We were all hot, tired, and hungry.  My husband grumbled because I didn't order pizza, even though I thought about it. I grouched back because I had been listening to a screaming baby for the last half hour and couldn't make a phone call in the car.

Then he pulled lobster out of the refrigerator.

Ah, fresh lobster for dinner! Elegant, refined, succulent and delicious! I'm supposed to be thrilled.

But all I saw was a fishy mess ready to be made, complaints from the kids ready to be heard, and my own hunger unsatisfied.

I wanted a nice soft-boiled egg on toast, not lobster.

But then another kid called because he couldn't get a ride home, and I volunteered to go get him. I'd make my egg when I got home.

On the way to the pick-up, I applauded myself for 1. Walking away from a ticking time bomb of an argument.  2. Knowing what I want.

Being decisive is a victory for me.  I am now mature enough to admit that I don't really like shellfish.  It's chewy and unsatisfying.  I do like shrimp, and I have had scallops perfectly prepared once.  But although I love a good piece of salmon or trout, I do not prefer crustaceans and shellfood.  Perhaps it is a cultivated taste that I haven't indulged in enough, but I like to think I have given shellfish a try over and over, on the East Coast, on the West Coast, in the midwest, in Europe, in Japan, and on Guam.  And I am still halfhearted about it.

I'd rather have a tasty, filling egg over lobster caught the night before by my resourceful, lobster-trap-loving brother-in-law.

But when I got home, the lobster was cooked with some fusilli in olive oil and rosemary, so I lined up behind the kids with my plate and was served my portion, joined them at the back patio table illuminated by the full moon and ate it. And it was good. A little chewy, yes, but the rosemary cut the fishiness. My husband, his good spirits and blood sugar restored with protein and pasta and a pumpkin ale, delighted in the compliments from the kids.  I didn't withhold my thanks and admiration, although I didn't pitch in on the clean-up. (The baby!)

So now I add a third lesson: 3.Let the person most concerned decide.  And 4. Eat what you are given. And 5. Give thanks for a husband who likes to cook, and kids who can do the dishes.

Meanwhile, my decision making faculties remained moderately impaired.  An article in the WSJ last week perfectly described my husband and me - he the satisficer, me the maximizer.  He can make a decision on the fly, without regrets or thinking twice.  I usually have to investigate all the options, compare prices from several providers, look into alternative solutions, etc.  Together we balance each other out.  We have some big decisions looming that are tougher than what's for dinner, but if the past 18 years are any indication, we'll make them eventually and all will be well.  Sometimes at the end of the day, our hard edges are exposed and our faculty for understanding is weakened by hunger and exhaustion, but a good meal and a moment on the back patio with a bright night sky and a full stomach (and sometimes full glasses) does a great deal to restore that balance.