I don't know why I worried about preparing a proper Christmas dinner. The clientele around here spent as much time eating it as Chevy Chase as Clark Griswold spent viewing the Grand Canyon with dead Aunt Edna strapped to the roof of the Family Truckster. Oops! Sorry for that spoiler, in case you haven't seen National Lampoon's Vacation. But seriously...it's older than an adult child. You really should have seen it by now.
Yes, I could have served some roadkill vittles, stewed in a cast iron pot, passed around on the end of a pool cue as far as my Backroads hillbilly menfolk were concerned. Case in point: Genius begged for 24-hour pizza only the day before. Oh, not pizza that could be delivered 24 hours. Or even pizza that could be cooked and picked up 24 hours. Nope. He wanted a single piece of DiGiorno Supreme that had been sitting on a pizza pan on top of the stove since lunch the day before. A leftover slice, uncovered, the pepperoni with its edges curled and hardened, two shades darker than pepperoni should appear.
"But Mom! We would eat it at my college house! None of us have ever gotten sick from it."
Indeed. I would say that the alcohol probably disinfected it the minute it dropped into their stomach acid. But no. Not on my watch. I was NOT letting my son eat a 24-hours-old slice of pizza. That belonged to my sweet, sweet Juno.
Perhaps Genius was in a fit of pique over the pizza denial when the incident occurred. It was right after our 12-minute Christmas dinner. I went to start my 30 minutes of cleanup after my three days of cooking, and could not find the butter wrapper. Let the record show that in some ways, Val is very much like her dear departed mother. When the food is unwrapped, the wrappers are set aside for reuse. The stick of real butter could easily be restored to its waxed paper wrapper. We don't use a lot of stick butter around here. Besides, Hick guards that cut-glass butter dish like an employee of Fort Knox. At Thanksgiving, he snatched it as soon as the table was cleared, to put back with his collection. Collection of what, I don't know. But when I need a butter dish, I ask Hick, and one appears.
Anyhoo...I went to re-wrap the butter stick, and the wrapper was gone! I searched high and low. Under the Glad wrap from the top of the 7-layer salad. Under the foil from the Sister Schubert's rolls. Under the Glad wrap and lid from the top of the deviled egg container. No butter wrapper.
"Has anybody seen the butter wrapper?"
"Oh, I put that in the wastebasket."
"WHAT? I was going to reuse that! Get it back!"
"Um. Dad just took out the trash. You're not getting it back."
Let the record show that Genius did not throw away the Glad wrap and foil. Only the butter wrapper. The dude who will not throw away his red Solo cup full of melted ice that has depleted Frig II's store, nor the paper plate than held pumpkin bread that he brought us so he could snack on. Suddenly, Genius was a one-man butter-wrapper cleanup crew. Go figure.
He was also the main suspect in the disappearance of the 44 oz Diet Coke straw that I had rinsed out and laid beside the sink. However...Genius was smart enough to deny any knowledge of my soda accessory.
He left two hours ago, and I already miss him.
I have been called Jerk for lesser offences
ReplyDeleteWell, you DID wash dirty dishes with the potato brush...getting it all soapy and unfit for scrubbing dirt off the outside of a potato.
DeleteI certainly expect--the next time I pay an arm and a leg for a tour of your estate--that I get to see either the Butter Dish shed or watch as it's being constructed...
ReplyDelete... 'cause I like to see nice things.
Hey! Bring Brook and Amy along with you. I hear they like nice things, too. Plus, I can charge them for the tour! They have plenty of arms and legs. I think they can afford the deluxe version. Which is the same as your tour, but with a fancy name.
DeleteYour kids are ALWAYS on your mind, for good or bad!!
ReplyDeleteYou ain't a-woofin'!
DeleteI used to eat cold pizza that had sat out on the counter overnight from a drinking fiesta. It was good. I liked the anise flavoring of the Italian sausage especially. But in my elder years I have discovered a better way to go. Place a non-stick pan over a relatively high flame until it gets hot (the pan) then place a slice of pizza in the pan and cover it. Let it cook for 4 to 5 minutes. The bottom will be crisp, the top will be melty, it will taste better than it did the night before. You're welcome.
ReplyDeleteThanks. I'll put that on the menu for my deluxe tour of the proposed handbasket factory and the Hick's Folly village.
DeleteMy ex mother-in-law used to leave fried chicken and cooked pizza out overnight and the kids ate it the next morning. There was something wrong with the whole family...hmmm.
ReplyDeleteOh, dear! What harsh times! You mean one actually had to fry one's own chicken, rather than picking it up ready to eat at the gas station? That's barbaric!
DeleteBrownie points to you for your attentive and concerned recycling. Disapproval and criticism to Hick for his lack thereof.
ReplyDeleteIn Hick's defense...he DID try to save his banana peel that time he stuffed it down in the La-Z-Boy cushion for me to find. Same with his toenails he left in the apple/cinnamon candle on the mantel.
DeleteThose butter wrappers are specially designed to keep odors in the fridge from permeating into the butter. I learned this while dozing in my recliner and letting He Who control the remote. He watches "How It's Made". He finds that show fascinating, saying he will try to make stuff himself. I have tried to convince him that this is not a DIY show, as it clearly shows stuff being made in a factory. Can tell him anything.
ReplyDeleteI did not know that fact about the butter wrappers. Right now my butter is a melting pot for Frig II fragrances, being protected only by the cut-glass lid of the butter dish. Shh...Hick has not realized that his treasure is performing its own factory-created duty.
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