My wife, Cheryl, keeps throwing out the salsa. I’ve discovered that an opened jar of
salsa that is half-used is absolutely useless to her sitting in the
refrigerator. “Are you going to
eat this?” she would ask. As I
looked at the savory jar of red chip sauce I would say, almost indignantly, “Of
course!” What could she possibly
mean, am I going to eat this? It’s
food, isn’t it? How could this
woman not know that at some point I am probably going to be hungry and salsa is
going to be the perfect fit? “It’s
taking up room,” she would finally declare as she rearranges the contents of
the refrigerator, clearing room for some of the more important items, like the
bottle of ketchup that hasn’t been used since the Fourth Of July or the
fat-free salad dressing that has congealed nicely into what looks like a bottle
of Jell-O pudding.
“A half a jar of salsa would be considered a meal in most
countries,” I would remind her. It
was certainly considered a meal, in fact, the main course in my apartment
before I met her. A bag of corn
chips and a large jar of Pace Picanté Sauce® would, and has, sustained my
nutritional needs for several days on end when times were tough. Some may call this the difference
between men and women, and although that may be partially true, my wife calls
it the difference between someone who lives a civilized lifestyle and someone
who is way too lazy to go to the store.
There is no fine line of distinction when it comes to what
can be considered breakfast, lunch or dinner. With me it’s pretty crystal clear. Anything that can be consumed can fit into any of the eating categories. My wife laughed at me once for
suggesting that we have waffles for dinner. “That’s breakfast!” she shot back as I rifled through my
food index looking for a meal that was more appropriate and less jack-assed,
considering the time of day it was.
Some of the other things I consider to be simple meals: Cake batter. Three pieces of white bread smashed together in a ball. Ham. Not a ham sandwich or ham and eggs, but ham. A decent sized lollipop. Any number of beers. Cheez-Its®. In my younger years these were the meals of
necessity. They were ‘what was
around’ at the time. Eat and get
on with the more important things in life like watching COPS. Time simply couldn’t be wasted on
gathering ingredients like some caveman, chopping everything up, mixing them
all together, and then cooking, baking or frying it all up. None of these meals needed much,
if any, preparation. No plates or
utensils were required. If you
really wanted to you could just drink the spaghetti sauce right out of the jar! Why
would you need napkins when you are wearing pants? Just a willingness to quickly make a trip to the kitchen,
down it as fast as you can, and you can get back before that episode of COPS
comes back from commercial.
The constant disappearance of my jars of salsa has opened up
a bigger picture for me when it comes to our refrigerator, and our lives in
general. I’ve discovered that these
are highly choreographed moves that help my wife jockey for positions of power
by using the various foodstuffs.
Her food, non-fat yogurt and almond milk, is at eye level and easy to
reach places. My food, beer, Tapatío®
and Mezzetta’s California Habanero Hot Sauce® is either crammed into the
‘crisper’ drawer at the bottom of the refrigerator with all the old, lost
cheeses that are half covered in mold, or it’s halfway to a landfill out in
Palmdale. The moldy cheeses have a
longer lifespan in our refrigerator than my jars of salsa while The Real
Housewives of God-Knows-Where have a longer existence on our DVR than any episode of COPS. "Haven't you seen this one
already?" she asks with indignation.
"Yes I have, but I need to see it again," is my usual response. Trust me, I realize there is no way to
answer that question without it sounding completely stupid.
That's when I discovered that it's all in the tone. "I need to see this episode of COPS again" is
weak. "I'M WATCHING
MILLIONAIRE MATCHMAKER!" is strong, forceful and important sounding. "I'M GOING TO THE BATHROOM RIGHT
NOW! CAN YOU WAIT, LIKE, TWO
MINUTES? JESUS CHRIST, CAN'T A MAN
GET ANY PEACE IN THIS HOUSE?!" is probably a little too much tone but I
think I'm beginning to get it.
Forget about the floating cars and jet packs they promised
us when we were kids. I'm happy
just sitting on the couch eating chips and salsa watching 'COPS: Tased and
Confused' for the 100th time.
