Step by Step

On Sundays, while the menfolk watch sports and do other manly things, the SJG goes dancing.  At 4:15, I leave SJG HQ in search of rhythm and music.  The need to flash the jazz hands overwhelms me.  I simply must dance the week's worries away.  I can't help myself.  And yet, much as I love my late afternoon dancecapade, there's still one subject that must be addressed.  Dinner.  Sometimes, okay, most times, I leave Sunday dinner up to hubby.  He calls in an order, or he picks up, I arrive home and its on the table. This is my definition of bliss.  Last night was different.  It was the second night of Hanukkah and what sort of SJG would I be if I didn't prepare something outrageously delish for my people?  So I prepped the meal early, as they say on TV.  I marinated, I made this and that, and then, I wrote out a complicated set of instructions.  Step 1.  Preheat oven.  Step 2.  Take chicken out of fridge.  Step 3... oh, you get the idea.  I like to make it easy for hubby, because he's got enough to think about already.  When I left for dance class, he was thinking about plumbing,  He was determined to find The Leak.  There was no way I could go over my step-by-step Hanukkah meal instructions while he was staring into the toilet tank.  That's just icky.  So I grabbed the eldest.  He loves to cook, always has, and I knew this assignment would speak to him.  "Okay, honey, here's what you do. Step 1 " -- He yanked the list from my dainty hand.  "Got it.  No worries.  Go dance."  Off I went, and when I came back, I'm proud to say, he'd done everything on the list.  Well, except one thing.  He hadn't reheated the spinach souffle.  "@#$%!" he said in shame.  "It's fine.  We'll just give it a zap," I said.  We zapped, we sat, we consumed massive quantities of yum.  All in all,  a resounding success... once I made them turn off the Lakers and told hubby, "Let's not discuss the plumbing thing over dinner."