The chicken was bought last Monday, right at the beginning of Obon week: I thought I'd start off with a nice healthy dinner: chicken, onion, cabbage and red pepper stir fry; salad; and corn on the cob.
Then the kids decided they had to stay the night at Baachan's. Well, who's going to argue with that? Dinner plans were delayed, who knows what I ate, but I'm sure I chased it down with some wine!
And I realized that since Tuesday was o-Bon and we would be eating at Aunty Toyoko's house that night, that the chicken's next date with my kitchen would be Wednesday, so it really should go in the freezer in the meantime.
Wednesday came, and I took the chicken out to defrost in the fridge, Monday's dinner plans in mind. K came home, and lounged on the wicker chair while I tried to finish off a bit of decluttering I had started that day. It was hot, I was tired... we chatted... realized tonight was the only night this week we would all be home... and therefore, this was our chance to to go out for a family dinner.
So... Mr Chicken went back in the freezer, and we ended up eating yakitori with the Haradas, followed by karaoke at the Biliken Club. No chicken.
Thursday was beach day! K had meetings, so because we knew we wouldn't be meeting him for dinner, we ate on the way home. Amy wanted omuraisu (a thin omelet stuffed with flavored rice) so we aimed for the family restaurant in Jusco. It was pretty disappointing...
Friday we went to Oita for a TPet Blinky Bits recording session at Bitts Hall. (I'll explain what that means in a future post!) and this time went to the restaurant I think we all decided would have been the better choice the night before: Capriccosa, an Italian chain restaurant that is truly yummy!
Monday rolled around again.
And, dammit, the chicken got cooked. You'd think I'd be dying to get that damned chicken cooked by now, but there was a part of me (okay, a very BIG part), that was desperately hoping that the children would again beg to stay at Baachan's, freeing me to flee along the coastal road... but that was not to be. Chicken it was. It was okay, after several consoling wines, picking at it while K and I watched stupid J variety shows late at night. At least he likes my chicken stir-fry now, he used to hate it. Or rather, I cooked it the first time, he said 'yum', I thought he meant 'yum', but he was just being polite, so I cooked it again and again until he finally told me he didn't really like it... but that was years ago, before I trained him. Or, is he still being polite? Who knows?