Picking Up The Split
Azul, my five year-old, was invited to his first Birthday bowling party today, and while I was getting ready, all I kept wondering was if I was going to be able to have a drink. Come on, we’re at a bowling alley, bowling and drinking go hand in hand! But, I’ll be with Azul’s schoolmates and parents; parents I have never met before. We’re all adults, no one should have a problem with an adult having an adult beverage. But, how embarrassing if I am the only one with a drink. I really want a Bloody Mary. I do know one set of parents of Azul’s friends and they drink. I wonder if they’ll be there? I do hope they will be there. But will I look like a neglectful parent if I have a cocktail? If another parent is having a beer, maybe I’ll have one. A beer! What am I thinking, a drink might seem a little classier. I’ll have a Bloody Mary, that sounds good. But only if another parent is drinking. What am I worried about? I don’t know these people. Ugh! It’s getting late, I have to blow dry my hair.
This Blows…
I have experienced an event that marks the end of an era for me. My vacuum died. This was the last relic of my young, single, care-free life. Much like me, it hasn’t worked quite right for years, it blew more dust around than it sucked up, but it was mine. I first moved out of my parents’ house when I was sixteen, and moved into my first apartment without a roommate in 1992 when I was twenty. This was when the vacuum became part of my life; it has traveled many miles with me and cleaned many floors. Good-bye my friend. Now, in my state of mourning, I’m going to Costco to get a new vacuum!
Gravy Train
Almost ten years ago we bought our first house, and like most giddy new home owners, I was ready to host a holiday. So, Thanksgiving was going to be mine! We had my family and my husband’s family, although he wasn’t my husband yet, and some of our friends over. It was a big gathering in my little house of about 1000 square feet; there was cooking going on, and drinking and talking and it was aweso
me. Once the turkey was done it was almost time to eat, and at the last-minute, I remembered, the gravy. I forgot about the gravy. I frantically started cooking the giblets and innards for the gravy. Whew, gravy is cooking and everything was still under control, now all I had to do was blend the gravy to make it smooth. I took the gravy from the stove top and poured it in the blender; I was almost done and ready to serve dinner to my friends and family. Have I mentioned that I am a vegetarian and don’t eat turkey or any meat products? Well, I turn the blender on and KABOOM! It exploded and there was gravy and pieces of turkey innards everywhere — on the walls, the ceiling, the blinds — everywhere. And I was wearing it too; it was on my clothes, in my hair and on my face and eyelashes. It was gross and hilarious. I guess you’re not supposed to blend hot liquids because the heat creates pressure, which can cause an explosion and a huge mess. Who knew? Five years later when we were getting ready to sell our house, there were still gravy stains on the ceiling from MY first Thanksgiving.
Carmelina Hart 