I ran to the salon to have my hair done today because I have a tradeshow in town on Monday and Tuesday this week. Sorry Grammy, but I feel like one of those old ladies that have a standing appointment on Fridays to get their hair washed and styled. It's just that any time I have meetings or an event it is so much easier to let someone else work magic on the forest of hair that I have than to do it myself every morning. A good style will last a few days. Anyway...
Since I had my parents coming to visit, the hair stylist was running late - which never happens - so I was rushing around after my blow dry to gather items for a Father's Day dinner. I had settled on good old fashioned spaghetti and meatballs mainly because my husband and I had stopped consuming most carbs and fatty meats on January 1st in our quest to drop 10% of our body weight (which we both succeeded at doing - yeah!) and so this was a "special" dinner treat. I even bought a loaf of white Italian bread to accompany the meal!
Long story short, I finally arrived home to a full house, put out fresh guacamole and tortilla strips, low-fat cheese and Melba toast, olive spread and deviled eggs for the kids (they'd eat 3 dozen if I let them - thanks to my Mom for actually peeling and stuffing those!). I then stood over the stove and created a spaghetti sauce from scratch with fresh basil and garlic, mixed up my special meatball recipe and browned them in olive oil, added them to the sauce and FINALLY joined everyone in the living room to chat. They were enjoying the spread I put out when I arrived at the house.
Later that night, in celebration of Father's Day, my family all enjoyed the same meal for a change - well except for the vegetarian daughter who gagged at the thought of meatballs and only enjoyed spaghetti and butter - but what a treat. Half way through the meal, my husband looks across from me at the table and inquires,
"Where'd you get the meatballs from? They're really good."
I replied, "Are you kidding me?"
"What? Didn't you say you were going to go get them from Borelli's?"
"Weren't you in the same house when I was slaving over them in the kitchen?"
He directed his next statement to my daughter,
"You should spend time with your Mother in the kitchen. She's a good cook. Her meatballs taste like she bought them."
Deep breath. It is Father's Day so I let it go, otherwise he may have been wearing a plate of those delicious meat-a-balls.