My family visited last week. They like to break stuff. I have been wanting an arch into my pantry for the last year. My grandpa was like, “You want what? That’s dumb. What you need are some nice 45’s. Good and square.” I said, “No. I want it curved.” So he said something about me being just like my mother and then slapped some sheetrock up there. Women, there’s no reasoning with them.
I warned her and told her to take the double stroller and strap them down. She realized the force of my wisdom when she was already deep in the bowels of the museum. She decided to leave my dad in charge of the kids while she ran out to grab the stroller. When she came back in she found my dad reading a plaque with no children in sight. “Children, what children?” He’s like that.
Grandpa Dude also brought Jael her little hoosier cabinet and then tripped it out with baking supplies. Jael would prance around in the swirl of sheetrock dust and demand to make a cake. It took me at least three days to strong arm the kitchen back into submission. I had to scrub the floor on my knees.
You have no idea how fun it is to cook for 11 people for three days with your refrigerator in the middle of the room, with half the counter space taken up with random tools. Then my mother would actually says such inane things as, “Why don’t you whip up a broccoli salad?” I ain’t whipping up nothin’. Except chocolate cake, lemon cake, tomato basil bisque, cashew chicken curry, goat cheese souffle, tomato chorizo stew, biscuits and gravy, and a host of pickle and faux chicken sandwiches. I was commenting to my mother as I rolled out biscuits, “Hey this sheetrock dust blends right in.” Really, you can’t imagine. BUT, I do have a pantry with an arch now. Unfortunately it still needs sanded, primed, painted, wall-papered, flooring, shelves, and lighting. Let me know if you want to visit.