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[Cautiously cracks open door, peers around]

Hello! Anyone still here?

Really? Well, just let me move these suitcases over a bit and, uh, dust off this chair, and...let's see...hang on a second while I vacuum up this spider colony on the keyboard...

So! Yes, I'm back. And I know I'm supposed to write all about the airplane ride and the trip and Susie and everything, which is probably why I haven't managed to do so yet, because OMG overwhelming...but first. FIRST, I have to tell you about last night. Because my mind works backwards, I guess.

Obligatory travel photo - Jaffa on the Mediterranean Sea

Knit Night is Wednesday evenings. And I often arrive much later than my friends because they don't have kids at home and I do and I have to cook dinner for my family before I leave the house. Because I'm a great mom like that.

Actually, I just feel guilty and I don't want Larry munching on peanuts and nothing else after a hard day at work.

But a knitting friend who shall go unnamed (but it is she of the iPad-dropping fame) said, "WHY are you cooking dinner on Wednesdays? You were gone 2 weeks. Did anyone starve? Didn't they manage? You can skip making dinner one night a week!"

So yesterday (Wednesday) rolled around and I thought, "You know, they did manage. Badly (think, yeah, peanuts), but still...and I've cooked dinners the last 3 nights...so, yeah, I'll drop Rachel off at work and go straight to Knit Night. They'll be FINE."

Seriously, there was rotisserie chicken I had pulled off the bone and left in the fridge. There was a piece of leftover frittata I had whipped up on Tuesday. There were leftover boppies, from the night I had made meatloaf. There was even some apple crisp from the day before. I'm telling you, I've really been rocking this meal preparation gig lately.

All in full view in the fridge or on the counter...

And there was also bread, and cheese, and eggs. PLENTY OF REAL, EASY-TO-PREPARE FOOD. Food that Susie makes every day. But there was also, left on the stove to cool a bit before being put away, a pot full of just-made chicken stock, with the bare bones from the rotisserie chicken and the old (and now very overcooked) celery and carrots and onions still in it. "Larry will know to put it in the fridge," I thought. "I can strain it tomorrow and then make some matzo balls to go with."

So I left the house, secure in the knowledge that I had provided sustenance for my family and could hang out guilt-free with my knitting friends.

Good lord, I'm stupid.

Turns out, Larry got home and asked Susie what was for dinner. She said, "I dunno - I think Mommy made you some soup." Whereupon they both went into the kitchen and stared down at the unstrained broth with the CHICKEN CARCASS floating in it, along with the limp veggies, and decided that, yes, that was Larry's dinner.

You know, words fail me at this point. I just want to say to my knitting friend, "You were wrong. They can't manage. And it's a good thing I didn't leave a pot of wool soaking in Kool-Aid dye on that stove instead."