Just a couple days after the La-Z-Boy Pretzel, our old Farmer is growing up. Learning from his mistakes. Almost able to take care of himself. Let's not go overboard, heaping on the praise, though. There was a misstep along this short journey.
Sunday, I said I'd pick up supper for him at Country Mart's deli. He wanted a BBQ pork steak, green beans, and mashed potatoes. He'd at first mentioned macaroni and cheese, but switched that to the potatoes. As I waited my turn at the deli counter, I noticed that the after-church crowd must have been dismissed early. It was only about 12:15, but already the deli cupboard was showing signs of impending bareness. A scant amount of mac and cheese clung to the corner of the metal bin, and only three stubs of green beans floated in the murky water.
So...Farmer H got his pork steak (it was HUGE), and mashed potatoes with brown gravy, plus mac and cheese. He's probably pretty sure I'm trying to kill him with carb overload.
Anyhoo...knowing how he is, I told Farmer H before I went downstairs,
"You're going to put your food on a plate, right? And not try to eat it out of the foam container? Because a knife will cut right through that."
"Oh. Uh. Sure."
I was not exactly convinced. But when I came upstairs later, his dirty plate was sitting beside the sink. Along with MY SPECIAL BOWL that is part of a set my mom gave me! It's really old! So old that the "set" was just three plates and four bowls. In fact, two of the bowls are chipped and cracked. So I rarely use them. The only thing is when making Farmer H his salsa/cheese dip for Super Bowl snacks. Yet he'd taken it upon himself to use my special keepsake bowl!
"WHY did you use THIS bowl???"
"It's just a bowl, HM. I put my mashed potatoes in it."
"We have two kinds of disposable bowls, and the regular glass bowls with the stripe on the edge, which are in the front of the cabinet! WHY did you dig around to get THIS bowl?"
"I just did."
"Well. Don't do it any more. We have regular bowls. These are old, and special, and I'd rather not take a chance on them getting broken. My mom gave them to me."
"Huh. Okay. I'm always doing something wrong."
He ain't a woofin'!
Anyhoo...on Monday, since he was leaving early for an auction around 4:30, Farmer H said he would get his own supper. And he DID!
All I had to do was originally cook the spaghetti with hamburger sauce, freeze it, thaw it, and tell him how to heat frozen garlic toast in the oven (400 degrees, three minutes each side) and leave a pan lined with foil on top of the stove.
Farmer H did remarkably well. Even used the everyday bowl to microwave his spaghetti. AND none of it was found in the La-Z-Boy.
He did it!! All by himself! Now all you have to do is teach him to rinse off the dirty plate and utensils. Shouldn't take too long. Another thirty years or so.
ReplyDeleteI understand the sentimental value, but if you really don't want those dishes used, then maybe put them into a different cabinet, someplace you keep your keepsakes. Where you can still see them. And if some are cracked, then go ahead and use them, just put away the good ones.
River,
ReplyDeleteWhoa, my head is spinning at the thought of teaching Farmer H to rinse off the dirty plates! He already does that, saying he is doing me a favor! Yet he rinses food particles into my sink, and I have to dig them out with a knife point so my water will drain. Also, he runs cold water over greasy plates, just making wet grease.
I COULD put my special plates in the glass cabinet with the set of red Depression glassware that my grandma gave me.
Don't bother putting your special plates in a special cabinet. Men can't find their butt with both hands, but if they're told not to use something, they'll ferret it out every chance they get.
ReplyDeleteMaybe you need your own safe. What else would you put in it besides your dishes?
coulda, shoulda, woulda. move them.
ReplyDeleteSioux,
ReplyDeleteI need to tell Farmer H not to use the vacuum! I complained last night about stepping on the assorted straw and sticks and cedar shavings he carries in on his lug-soled boots. Surely he doesn't think I would pick up that crap in my walks from kitchen to garage on the porch and sidewalk.
Anyhoo...I said I was tired of getting that stuff stuck in the bottom of my socks, and he said, are you ready for this...
"HM. ONE of us is going to have to run the vacuum."
You know darn good and well who he was insinuating should run that vacuum! Maybe he'd like to take over cleaning his own poop off the toilet seat in exchange for vacuuming duty...
Either is a thankless job, because an hour after it's done, he'll make the same mess again.
***
River,
I THOUGHT about it today when I looked in the cabinet. That's the first step.