Ready to take full advantage of a Saturday with no plans and no responsibilities, RM and I decided to take the sailboat out on Lake Washington yesterday. It was a bit chilly, but the weather report promised a partly cloudy 80-degree day with 5-10 mph winds, so we decided to give it a go. We got a late start due to my insistence that the house had to be cleaned before we could do anything, as I just wouldn’t be able to enjoy the day otherwise. Perfect sense, right?
Thankfully, I have a wonderful man who not only entertained my mood, but also helped with the vacuuming. –And let me just tell you, readers, he is one heck of a vacuumer. It seems as though he has had an additional talent he’s been hiding. Guess we know how we’re divvying up the chores once we’re married, eh? I digress…
Once the home was tidy, off to Lake Washington we went. I heard my stomach growl as we hopped in the boat, and I realized that in my cleaning frenzy that morning, I had forgotten to eat lunch. It was already after 1:00 p.m.—several hours since I had eaten breakfast.
That’s okay. We’ll just pop over to that Mexican restaurant we love in Madison Park for a late lunch and voila! I’ll be eating yummy food in no time.
Welp, needless to say, it didn’t quite happen like that.
I don’t have much experience sailing—as in I had never been sailing until about two months ago—and so when I thought we would just “pop over” to Madison Park from Mercer Island, what I didn’t know was that the “pop over” would take more than three hours. What I also didn’t know was that RM had guzzled down a protein shake, Fiber One bar, and an energy bar before we left the house, assuming that I had a similar pre-lunch snack.
Despite some stellar wind and RM’s smooth sailing that carried us quite far, we were only halfway there. My energy was low, and I was cold. Where was the 80-degree weather we were promised? How much longer until we would be munching on tortilla chips and guac?
RM sensed my desperation and offered me a bag of beef jerky from the survival bag. I tore into the tough jerky, thinking to myself, I must be really hungry because I would not be eating this otherwise. Is this even real meat?
The bits of jerky didn’t seem to be enough to satisfy my hunger pains, and that’s when RM remembered he also had an MRE in the survival bag. I politely declined his offer, daydreaming instead about the butternut squash enchiladas that I would enjoy sooner or later once we arrived in Madison Park. There was no way I was settling for a stinkin’ MRE—especially after I had made it this far. My mother’s words from my childhood echoed in my head, “Well then, you must not be that hungry.”
RM sensed both my stubbornness and that I was becoming increasingly hangry (hangry= hungry + angry) and less pleasant to be around. Because he is smooth, he said it was just fine that I didn’t want the MRE, but he was hungry, so he was going to bust into it for himself. Part of me knew it was a ploy just to get me to eat it, but I didn’t care. I was grateful that he knew me well enough to know what I needed, when I wasn’t willing to swallow my stubborn pride and give in.
Soon after, I was scarfing down crackers with strawberry jam, Mexican corn, chili, and one delicioso strawberry milkshake.
Okay, so it wasn’t butternut squash enchiladas, but I don’t think I’ve ever been so thankful for Mexican corn in my life. Oh, and the sailing was good too. 🙂