I bought a chicken last week. It had a sell by date of 5/13, so I knew time was running out (if it hadn't already) to get it cooked. It was huge and cost $8.72 so I was loathe to throw it out. We were going to have chicken for dinner tonight, dammit, if it killed us. It may still kill us. Our son was woefully tired when we got home. By the time I pick him up at 5:30, nurse him in the van for 15 minutes, stop at the store and get home, it's almost 6:30. Dinner was going to be tight, but we were having this damn chicken.

I wanted to grill it because that usually is faster than the oven. The last time I tried this, the chicken drippings blackened the skin, so I tried it again with a foil barrier. That worked reasonably well, but we were running out of daylight and toddler patience and time all around. I decided to finish cooking it in the Advantium. But even that was going to take too long. So I cut it up into sections and finished it that way. It was the most complicated, messy, unappetizing version of grilled chicken I could have created.

Add to that a fussy toddler and I was just done. I was never going to try to cook anything in our house again. My husband has many wonderful talents, but cooking is not one of them. I think he can cook three things, one of which is Steak-ums. So if I want food at home, I have to make it. But when am I going to make it if we don't get home until after 6 and the toddler is running out of steam by 7:30? It's a sprint to make food, which isn't very fun.

Oh, and I had avocados that were going to go bad, so I had to make guacamole tonight whether I wanted to or not. And I had to find something to pack for Ian's lunch tomorrow. So while I angrily chopped up avocados and mixed cilantro I ranted to Rich about how food just is not fun. It was not a pretty sight.

We had some quiet time in our respective corners, him banging on things in the garage and me banging dishes. After an hour or so things started looking up. I took the leftover chicken and dumped it in a pot to make soup. I packaged up the guacamole, which Ian will get some of tomorrow. And I took the sweet potatoes I'd baked during dinner and made gluten-free sweet potato biscuits.

And even though the chicken was a mess, I steamed asparagus with shaved Parmesan cheese and toasted pine nuts and that was delicious. I could have eaten just that.

So food can be fun sometimes. Maybe just not on weeknights.