Tuesday, February 8, 2011
For several years the taco dip became a staple at our hometown visits. We'd wait for my brother to make it and we'd all gather around the kitchen island stuffing our mouths and teasing the one who seemed to be eating it faster than everyone else. If some of us were on the dock when John arrived, we'd be lucky to hear someone yell down, "The taco dip is here!" and a good third of the dip would already be consumed before that notice was given to us dock dwellers. I'd eventually ask for the simple recipe. We began making it ourselves at home and for our own visitors. It became a favorite at summertime parties and at BBQ get-togethers.
Tonight I returned from an emotional day at work, only to find more on my plate for me to do at home. One child was sick. Another was having a rough day. The dog needed attention too. A phone call needed to be made. Dinner didn't get made before I headed out to an evening event, leaving the kids to pour bowls of cereal for supper. I made it to the event at what I thought was the designated time only to discover that once again I had arrived at the wrong time. I was too late. When I made it home, just 8 hours before I'd have to get up for another long day, I was starving. It took only a minute for me to remember what was in the fridge, left over from the Super Bowl party we'd had two days earlier.
I didn't take any time to yell down to the dock dwellers today. Sometimes a girl has to get selfish. Sometimes a girl just needs her taco dip.