Wednesday, October 28, 2009

why I don't have the freezer space to store an extra loaf of homemade goodness

(Remember this post? If you haven't read it yet, you might be a bit confused about the title. Just FYI.)

Eric enjoys chatting, and (if you don't mind my saying), he's good at it.

Perhaps that is one of reasons I fell in love with him so easily. Eric is always easy easy to talk to, and he has a knack of putting people at ease in all kinds of situations.

I love that about him.

Most of the time.

However . . .

At times, this knack he has gets a little bit annoying for me and my type A personality.

Like when I'm in the car with Heather, watching through the window as Eric stands, chewing the fat with a convenience store cashier.

Like when I'm ready to leave a party or gathering and Heather is about thirty minutes past her bedtime and her tolerance level and I've given him the "let's get out of here" look, and he gives me the "okay, no problem" look, but still it takes us another twenty minutes to actually get out the door.

Like when Eric volunteers to go to the grocery store (a two-minute drive away)(if you drive slow)(if he'll pick up milk and bread along with his soda, he gets to pay for it with "family money" instead of his "do whatever he wants to money") and comes home an hour later, saying that he got caught up in a conversation and "just couldn't get away."

You get the idea.

Now, before you click elsewhere, thinking that this is an unfair bashing of our favorite hero, wait! There's a happy ending to this story.

A few weeks ago, Eric came home from one of the aforementioned prolonged grocery store trips and announced,

"The Bishop's are going to give us a bunch of halibut."


As it turns out, as our hero was roaming the aisles of Macey's food and drug, he chanced to meet up with two of our neighbors (Bryan and Lindsay Bishop), as well as their four children. As nearly as I can tell, a typical Eric chat ensued, during which we learned that Bryan had recently returned from Alaska, where he had caught and brought home a bunch of halibut. We also learned that the Bishop household contained very few fish-lovers. (The Cantwell household, in contrast, is completely saturated with fish-lovers, especially when that fish is halibut)

I'm unclear on how the rest of this transpired (and I can only hope that there was no begging involved), but one week ago, Bryan dropped by our house with a whole grocery bag full of frozen halibut. We had halibut for dinner the next night, and two days later.

quirky 10-09

I don't mind telling you that having that meal was a little piece of heaven right in our kitchen. What's more, thanks to the generosity of the Bishop's, we should be able to enjoy that heaven several more times throughout the coming months.

Eric, my love . . .



Tasha said...

I too am married to a chatter. I have gotten to the point where I will also text him some exclamation marks when I really have passed the point of being nice when he returns. You could try that. It's subtle, you don't end up being the very rude spouse, but the point is more than made.

Enjoy your halibut.

Jake said...

Every once in a while it's nice to see the things we don't always like in our spouses may not be so bad afterall. Like when you get a basket full of cornbread at the restaurant because you don't want the other varieties.

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