T-minus 30 hours and counting. My mom was completely packed on Monday. I suggested she start walking and by the time she got here, her luggage would have arrived. I understand her excitement prompts her packing frenzy. Having been safely swaddled in the womb, I can only imagine what her nesting habits were like before she gave birth. Picture, if you can, a diminutive woman, great with child, beehive hairdo, red lips with a dangling Virginia Slim...ordering my dad to wallpaper, change the carpeting, move the window to another wall to get better light, etc....
I'm sure my dad is packed, by now, as well. That scene would have been something like "Jim, don't forget your jeans" (an item he's worn every day since his mother put him in long pants) There would also have been comments such as 'what are you taking that for?', or 'you're going to need this' and 'if you think you're going to wear that shirt with those pants you're nuts'. At some point, he'll suggest she just pack for him, at which time she'll remind him that he's a grown man, capable of packing his own bag
Most of you know that when I'm working (oh, how I remember that...
) I don't really bother with dinner. Considering I'm not, and I have company (they'll be here for 11 days. Did I mention I was having my head examined on the 17th?) I needed food, more food than usual. Between shopping for dry goods last week and perishables this week I've spent $400 on stocking this house. With proper planning and frugal toilet use we could survive in here for 6 months. Easy. My mother insists on drinking bottled water. It could be whatever medicine she takes makes her thirsty, but this bottled water thing kills me. You know me, I'm a decrease the landfills sorta gal. I have a pitcher of filtered water in the fridge, plenty to fill a nice big glass. So, I bought one six -pack of water. She'll have to refill as she goes or I'm apt to pull my hair out.
I have a tentative menu in my head for the week, too.
Friday: pumpkin soup followed by homemade pappardelle with short ribs. Apple pie and strufoli for dessert.
Saturday we're going into the city to see the tree. Dinner will be at Delta Grill for cajun and creole.
Sunday: Pernil with fried plantains, sauteed collard greens, yellow rice with pigeon peas.
Monday: chicken cutlets, mashed potatoes, baby peas
Tuesday: macaroni, meatballs, sausage
Wednesday: some type of fish with rice, etc...
I cannot even think as far ahead as Thursday. Just getting the aforementioned menu together was daunting. Even scarier will be trying to cook it while someone keeps my mother occupied and out of the kitchen. That someone will have to be my dad. Unfortunately, all she has to do is say "Jim, why don't you rearrange all the summer furniture in Roseann's garage before it get's dark?" and that will be the end of my buffer. I'll be elbow to elbow with her. All she'll want to do is help, and all I'll see is that the peeler is in the wrong drawer. She does keep a spotless kitchen, so putting her on clean up is usually the solution. But...there's that everything's in the wrong place problem to deal with. The good thing is that I can look her straight in the eye (well, I do have to look down a bit now...funny how older people shrink, hmm?) tell her get the **** out, and she'll go read the paper for a while. Then she'll ask me if I've calmed down and can she come back in. We'll do that dance till dinner is ready.
So, here's my plan, for anyone who cares to watch this show. I've got to pick them up at 2pm tomorrow. I'll pop in here as often as I can to let you know what we're up to, if the house has been painted a new and exciting colour, if the oven has exploded, if I've buried anyone in the garden, and if the authorities have been called.
Oh yea, both Marianne and Jim quit smoking over 40 years ago. Still, I think the damage has been done, don't you