A House Without Condiments

A friend came over this afternoon and promptly pinched me. I nearly hauled off and whacked him with the back of my hand, but he stopped me just in the knick of time, "HEY! It's St. Patrick's Day! You're not wearing green!"

"Oh. Sorry." (This is what happens when you no longer have children at home. I have dogs now. Dogs don't really follow the holiday thing. Criminy, every day's a holiday to them.)

Anyway.......and then, to deepen my guilt, my friend presents me with a take-out plate of corned beef, potatoes, carrots, and cabbage--All steamy warm, and oozing that delicious corned-beefy aroma...

Lately it seems my friends are concerned about my getting enough to eat. They keep dropping food off at my house--cookies, bread, Thai, burritos, and now Irish fare! I'm not exactly sure why. I look in the mirror and I don't think I look gaunt or malnourished. I look in the refrigerator and.....

Oh damn!....a quart of milk, a half-carton of eggs, and a jar of peanut butter. It's like a freakin' bachelor's refrigerator.

But wait a minute! I have a dozen tortillas and two English muffins in the freezer! It's not like there's nothing to eat!

Back to the corned beef and cabbage et al. And here's the tie in to Mom and Dad.

I proceeded to dig into my personally-catered St. Paddie's Day feast--set out a placemat (had to opt for an Easter mat with green eggs on it), got my fork and knife--then realized a missing key ingredient--MUSTARD and HORSERADISH--and I reflexively dashed to the fridge to retrieve said condiments so that I could properly indulge myself. Buuuuuuuut.......as you may recall, all I have in my fridge is milk, eggs, and PButt! No mustard! No horseradish! No condiments AT ALL!

AAARRRRGH! The blast of reality washes over me--I NO LONGER LIVE IN THE HOUSE WITH THE REFRIGERATOR THAT HAS EVERY CONDIMENT EVER MADE!

Seriously, the fridge at Mom and Dad's house had everything--Sweet Thai sauce, Hot Thai sauce, Chili Pepper Sauce, Capers, Mango Chutney, Hot Chutney, Fish sauce, not to mention at least a half dozen different kinds of mustard and horseradish. But my fridge? Nothing! No Grey Poupon! No Honey. No Stoneground. No Hot and Spicy. None at all. No horseradishshshshshshshhhhhh! (cue quiet sobbing)

So, excuse me, I have to dash to the store.....

Sugar Bowl

Dad's in the hospital. He fell this past week, fractured his left femur. Surgery was yesterday. Most, if not all of you, are well aware of the risks associated with ninetysomething year olds and major surgery. But, as we all hold our breath, attempt to focus on everyday tasks, all the while wondering if the phone is going to ring any second......leave it to my father to inject a bit of humor (albeit unconsciously) into an otherwise anxious situation.

So, as I said, Dad had surgery. Coming out of the anesthesia, he was apparently experiencing some confusion--not knowing exactly where he was, why he was, maybe if he was....

At any rate.......you know those white plastic containers the nurses use in hospitals for collecting and measuring urine? They have a plastic top? When the top is on the container the whole receptacle looks like a plastic casserole dish? Well, Dad calls them Honey Pots. I remember Dad used to always ask me in the mornings, "Did you empty Mom's honey pot?"

Honey pot. Except......remember Dad's recovering from major surgery, and general anesthesia, so his brain is doing some weird juxtapositioning and instead of referring to the Honey Pot, he's calling it a Sugar Bowl.

It's crucial to understand here that the nurses caring for my dad are familiar with the term Honey Pot.

Sugar Bowl? Not so much.

And I guess Dad, in his muddied mental state, has been asking for.....well, actually more like demanding......and not in a charming way.......the Sugar Bowl.........a lot.

So imagine my brother arriving at the hospital to see Dad, walking up to the nurse's station to check on any updates, and before he can get two words out, the nurses, in unison, ask with a certain professional desperation in their voices, "WHY DOES YOUR FATHER KEEP ASKING FOR THE SUGAR BOWL?!!!"