Sometimes I just have to accept that I'm Not the Pilot Flying. It's an aviation term, actually with its own abbreviation of NPF. The pilot in the cockpit might hand over the controls to the co-pilot, with the words "It's your airplane." (Can you imagine giving a $200-million dollar gift to someone other than your spouse? But I digress).
But in today's case, I won't be the Pilot Flying. No, Vicky is making the food. I feel supremely uneasy, because if I'm not in control of the food, all sorts of things can go wrong, at least in my mind.
Will the Thai chicken be brined? If not, WHY not? What's the side dish going to be? Do they have cilantro? I know she's an accomplished chef with 100,000 hours more than me, but I still get nervous.
In this case I know the remedy. If I'm not flying . . .
Sedate, sedate, sedate. That way I won't feel the pain of jumping over Grandma Ellen on my way to the emergency exit.