Follow up to Don't Spoil Dad

Yesterday, while out running errands, Omar and I discussed dessert....

I said, "Let's do something light and summery.... maybe some lemon sorbet with blueberries?" We were standing in a bakery at the time, so I added, "with a cookie of some kind?" So we perused the display and decided on a Pecan Crispy- a huge flat, round thing with pecans and who know what else.

By the way, I was planning on making crab cakes for dinner, so I thought something light and fruity sounded like a good balance.

The crab cakes were good. I served them with some Mango-Peach Salsa, along with our usual huge salad to which I added orange sections, to pick up the fruit theme.

I went into the kitchen a couple hours later to put dessert together. With the kettle on for tea, and bowls out for the sorbet, I grabbed the bakery bag to warm and break the Pecan Crispy. About that time, Dad (aka Hubby) walked in and started poking around. I said to him, "Go on downstairs; I'll bring dessert in a few."

His response? "Omar makes dessert from scratch, not a bakery bag."

Did I not say, "Don't spoil Dad?"

(by the way, dessert was yummy! I poured a bit of Lemoncello over the blueberries, and it was restaurant quality, even if I say so myself....)

Did I say "Don't spoil Dad?"

When Omar moved home for the summer, I said to him, "Don't spoil Dad...."

Huh?

Omar has turned into quite a gourmet.
-noun

1.	a connoisseur of fine food and drink; epicure.

–adjective

2.	of or characteristic of a gourmet, esp. in involving or purporting to involve high-quality or exotic ingredients and skilled preparation: gourmet meals; gourmet cooking.

3.	elaborately equipped for the preparation of fancy, specialized, or exotic meals

And I just knew we were in for a summer of excellent food, and I didn't want him to spoil Dad.

It's not that I'm not a gourmet, too, but I'm no longer as ambitious on a daily basis as Omar is. He will prepare risotto, from scratch, for LUNCH! Me? I'm all about the leftovers, or a quick sandwich.

Dinner? Oh my gosh, the dinners we've had. Now, lest you think he's been toiling away over a hot stove all summer, let me say 1) I've been helping 2) we've done a good deal of grilling and 3) most of the meals have been a collaborative effort to some extent.

Last night, as we sat nibbling on toasted blueberry pound cake with vanilla bean ice cream, Dad says, "Now let's see how Mom does when you're gone...."

Oy.

Did I not say, "Don't spoil Dad?"

Mothering Adult Children

For some bizarre reason, I thought as my children grew older, there would come a point where I wouldn't worry so much. Some nebulous portal would transport me to a place where I could sit back and watch them be wonderful adults, not a worry on the horizon....

How delusional can a (more or less) sane person be???

As they have grown, I have realized that there is a very apropos cliche: Small children, small problems; big children, oy vey.

Okay, that's not really the cliche, but you know....

And they're good kids!! Imagine if they weren't!?

It doesn't help that I'm a worrier by nature. I worry about all kinds of stupidity, but my kids, I worry about them every day. Not a day passes that I don't worry about something.

I still hope that one day I can let most of it go.

Oh, please, let that day come soon....

My Dad, the superhero

I was recently, very recently in fact, talking to some friends about my Dad.

I said, "In our family, he was like a superhero." Pretty much all my cousins, aunts and uncles talk about Dad with a certain awe in their voice. He was larger than life. He was a saint. He was a good man. He died 31 years ago today, at the too young age of 39.

He was my world. I was 16 when Daddy went to work that sultry July morning for the last time. He suffered a massive MI at work and died on the scene.

My world tilted.

To this very day, I can not talk about Daddy without crying. I can't write about him without crying. I still mourn the loss of this special man. I mourn the fact that his grandchildren never knew him. And some of his grandsons are SO like him. I mourn my loss, still.

Oddly enough, I find solace in a line from a Billy Joel song: "only the good die young." And that was what he was: good. He was a good man.

Love ya, Daddy.

How does he love me?

Let me count the ways.....

No, really, the Hubby of 27+ years knows how to say I Love You.

This past weekend, we took the Boys to Washington, DC for the weekend. Not really because it was the holiday weekend. In fact, if we'd really thought about it, we probably would have planned it for a different weekend, but it turned out to be a very cool experience. Hubby planned the trip for me because there were 2 museum exhibitions that I wanted to see.

Yes, we traveled 350 miles one way for me to go to a museum. THAT, my friends, is true love.

And it's not the first time we've done such a thing!

This time, however, it was to take in the exhibit of Afghanistan: Hidden Treasures from the National Museum, Kabul http://www.nga.gov/exhibitions/afghanistaninfo.shtm at the National Gallery of Art AND Muraqqa': Imperial Mughal Albums from the Chester Beatty Library, Dublin http://www.asia.si.edu/exhibitions/current/muraqqa.htm at the Freer + Sackler Galleries of the Smithsonian.

Why these 2 exhibitions? Two of my great loves are ancient history and art history.

And The love of my life, the Hubby, knows that.

Are they worth driving that far? To me, they were! To him? I doubt it, but he did it with me, for me, anyway.

And that's 1 way he loves me! xoxo

And the list bites the dust

I don't think I can do any more 'things I like about me.'

I'm embarrassed to admit that I'm not real comfortable doing it....

There are, to be sure, things I like about myself, but digging them out, naming them, writing about them? Nah, not so much.

I hope there are things other people like about me. I mean, there must be because I do have friends, and there must be something to like to build a friendship on, right? So, my friends, I love you for your friendship, for your support, for your words of kindness and love over the years. And I beg you to continue to love me even though I'm quitting my list of things. ;)

There are so many things that are more fun to talk about, so let's just talk about other things, shall we?

Number 7 of the things I like about me

7) I'm self sufficient.

At least most of the time. I wasn't much coddled as a child and I grew up being very self sufficient. In our early married years, Hubby traveled a great deal with his work, so my self sufficiency matured. During the child-rearing years, the patterns continued.

Thus, I reach the place I am today. I am a grown up woman, with grown up children, who really rarely "needs" anything from anyone.

From time to time I cross a jar I can't open on my own. Actually, I probably could if I persevered, but why bother when there are 3 strong men in the house?? I call for muscle and, presto change-o, the jar is open!

Yesterday, I bought a new filter for the aquarium. Let me just say I've been dealing with aquarium stuff for over 20 years. And I've never had any trouble with a filter. You put it together, hang it over the edge, fill it with water, plug it in and it goes. Except yesterday, it would not go. Would not run, for whatever reason. Brand new filter, right out of the box, not working.

I will admit to becoming very frustrated after about 30 minutes of fiddling with it. I gave up. I unplugged it and walked away, saying to Omar, "I'll have Dad take a look at it...."

After dinner, I tackled it again. I fiddled. I wiggled. I cursed. I sighed. I got it working!!!

I still don't know why the darn thing wouldn't work right off, but eventually it did, and I felt like I deserved something.... like a Pulitzer Prize for domestic engineering?