IT JUST TASTES LIKE A HOT DOG, OKAY?!?!?

Every week as I compose my grocery list, I ask Patrick what he would like for our upcoming dinners.  And for the first four years of our marriage, every week he would invariably say one of the following items:

Meatloaf

Spaghetti

Fish

Please do not suppose that this is because I lack creativity in the kitchen.  I enjoy cooking (mostly because I enjoy eating) and I am not afraid to tackle new recipes.  And Patrick is most certainly not afraid to tackle new foods.  In fact, he likes to order items off restaurant menus that he has no idea what they are just to be surprised when they show up at the table (swiss cheese, ham, powdered sugar, and grape jelly on pumpernickel bread anyone?)  

Last June, I asked him the same old question expecting the same old answer.  But this time, I got this response:

Hot Dogs

Now, I am not a food snob, but I have some standards.  And eating hot dogs for dinner is below them.  But he followed his response up with this:

...and I'll make them.

And that, my friends, is all it took for hot dogs to no longer be below my standards for dinner in our household.  Bring on the frankfurters.

So over the past 10 months, we have periodically had hot dogs for dinner.  But Patrick cannot just bring himself to slap together a hot dog, bun, ketchup, and mustard and call it dinner.  No, no, we must become hot dog connoisseurs.  We must not just eat the hot dog, we must experience it.  And (like all things the Esbers do) we must make hot dogs unnecessarily complicated.

Our running list of "hot dogs we have tried" is written on the back of a sample ballot for the 2012 election.  A ballot which a friend asked to borrow and make a copy of, and I said, "uhhh, not to be difficult, but our hot dog list is on the back of that...so can I email you the website I got it from instead?"  Aforementioned friend's look was priceless.  A mix between "what the heck are you talking about?!?!?" and "why am I somehow not surprised that the Esbers think their hot dogs are more important than the presidential election?"  Like I said, priceless.

The list goes as followed:

• Cuban Dog - ham, Swiss cheese, pickles
• Seattle Dog - onions, cream cheese, brown mustard, sauerkraut 
• Hawaiian Dog - mango, pineapple, jalapeño peppers
• Parisian Dog - pears, Brie cheese, Dijon mustard
• Chicago Dog - tomato, pickle relish, yellow peppers, onions 
• Pizza Dog - marinara sauce, mushrooms, fresh mozzerella cheese, basil leaves
• Banh Mi Dog - mayo, Sriracha sauce, sugar, cucumber, carrot, mint leaves

Not exactly a health food list.  But overall, they were good; some better than others (mint + hot dogs = bad choice) but as long as Patrick is willing to fix them, I suppose we will be adding new recipes to the list.  But for a woman who prides herself on her "personalized" grocery coupons always being for carrots, apples, and whole wheat bread, I will admit to being a tad appalled when our last flyer arrived in the mail.  You guessed it: $1.00 off your choice of hot dogs...

Stranger Danger

For several years, Patrick and I have called New Life our church home.  And we loved it; we loved that the church's focus was on Christ, we loved our small groups, we loved the nursery for our son, and we loved our friends.  What we did not love however, was that it is located in Gahanna.  Which was not convenient when we lived in Clintonville, became very inconvenient when we moved to Delaware, and super-duper massively inconvenient when we had a child.  It was not unusual for us to walk in 20 minutes late (and yet we never seemed to miss the "everybody turn around and greet each other" segment.  I think the pastor held off on that every week until he saw us walk in.)

So this fall, we embarked on a search for a new church home...this time in Delaware.  After a few visits, Patrick announced on the way home from Delaware Grace Brethren that he liked it and thought we could regularly attend there.  Patrick doesn't typically make such bold announcements, so I figured that either A) he liked it or B) he was as sick of being unsettled as I was.

And so we started attending Delaware Grace, and (due in part to the small size of the nursery, as well as in part to the fact that he is awesome) our son quickly became known to the nursery workers.  And he met a friend, who is very close to his age and has about the same amount of hair (that is, not much).  So the little Mister was settling in nicely.  For Patrick and I however, the service size is approximately 200 times the size of the nursery and we are not nearly as awesome as we'd like to think...so meeting new people is more difficult.

Here is a little known fact about me: I hate telling new people about myself.  Please note that this has nothing to do with the other person.  This is because the number one question that people ask a stranger is....

What do you do for a living?

And my answer is: 

I'm a dentist  

After I make the above statement, the conversation can go one of many ways:

1)  I hate the dentist.
 -Now, I am well aware that it is not a fun place to visit.  I work there for goodness sakes.  Heck, I don't just work there, I AM THE FREAKING DENTIST!!!!  Didn't your mama ever teach you that it's totally rude to tell a person that you just met that you hate them?!?!?  Apparently this rule does not apply to dentists, as we are sub-human.


2)  Oh. (uncomfortable silence)  Well, I'd best be going.  *abrupt end to conversation*
 -I think this is typically the reaction of someone who feels like I am looking at their teeth and judging them.  Trust me, when I am not at work, I don't care about your dental sins.  But I can sympathize with this group of people...it's the same way I feel when someone says, "I'm a personal trainer" and I suck in my stomach and suddenly regret that pint of Ben & Jerry's I just inhaled. 

3) I got this tooth that's giving me trouble if you wouldn't mind taking a look...

 -Yes, I would mind taking a look.  You are a complete stranger, we are not in my office, you are not my patient, and (unless you are going to pay me for this advice) I am not at work.  I mind very much.

4) My aunt's second cousin's husband is a dentist in Montana, Dr. Tom Smith.  Do you know him?

 - No, I don't actually.  He must not have paid his yearly dues to the super-secret-all-dentists-know-each-other club.  Alternatively, sometimes I like to mix it up a bit and say, "Oh yeah, Dr. Smith!!  How is he doing these days???"

5) My dentist pulled a tooth once and his knee was up on my chest!!!

 -This has never happened in the history of ever.  Period.  If you would like more of an explanation on WHY a dentist would never do this, feel free to leave a comment and I might get back to you.

6) You must make a lot of money

 -This one, even if they are just thinking it, is THE WORST.  I can honestly say that I hate that more than anything.  I paid the dental school six figures for the pleasure of attending.  So no, I do not take a money shower after work every night.

I have actually considered lying when I answer this question.  Not because I am ashamed of my profession, I love being a dentist and we do serve a need in society (a need that people hate, but a need nonetheless).  But I don't exactly know what I would say instead, so by default I always tell the truth...and brace myself for the other person's reaction. 

So a couple of weeks after we started attending Delaware Grace, a very nice woman came up to us and introduced herself.  We chatted a little bit, and the inevitable question came up.  But when I answered, she very sweetly replied, "How nice!  You must really enjoy that!"  And I just stared at her...I didn't even know what to say.  No judgement?  No remarks about how you hate me?  No random tooth issues that suddenly need resolved on a Sunday morning?  Ummmm, yes, yes I do enjoy it...thank you.

Come to find out, that very nice lady is the pastor's wife.  I think we might just fit in here after all...