Thursday, January 31, 2008

Where's Emeril when I need him?

I love my friends, but none of them enjoy cooking. In fact, before I acquired my disability, I used to enjoy cooking for them. It wasn't unusual for me to invite folks over for a meal on the spur of a moment, and that goes back to when I was in college. My roommate and I used to always keep a pot of food on the stove, whether it was stew or soup.

Now my "cooking" is limited to pulling out the foil covered sandwiches and plates Meredith makes. On the weekends when my friends come over,   I've had to make it clear that the food my aide makes me is "off limits" because we plan my meals and grocery shopping, etc. so I can't "share" or give away those meals to people who drop by. 

What's developed is that a few friends 'grouse' about needing to deal with cooking. I've explained to them that I don't expect them to cook for me (especially if they don't enjoy it!) and so we often get takeout food. I thought this was a reasonable compromise until this past week, when I received a call from a friend telling me she was putting weight on because of eating takeout food when she visited. 

I pointed out that she picked out the kind of takeout food she brought over and could bring a salad or something healthier, to which she replied "I guess." Then I said "You know, if food's an issue, why not just come over to watch a movie and leave the meal out of the equation?"  I suppose for some folks, this might be the answer to the dilemma.

I had one sweetheart of a boyfriend who used to 'love' my Tyson ready made chicken, he said, even when he pulled it out of the packaging , microwaved it and put it on a plate with ready made macaroni salad. 

"Mmmm," he would say, savoring each bite. "This is actually very good, thanks."

I don't expect everyone else to humor me with this kind of thing. But I must admit, I loved him very much for it. And I miss him.