Finding Sara

After I put my Chocolate cake in the oven yesterday morning, and I was washing dishes, I was reminiscing about last Thanksgiving, and one of my favorite ever Dd moments, at least to date. It happened last Thanksgiving, 2006. 

I am lucky enough to be married to a man who cooks, and who cooks very well. He also enjoys it. In our house Grant cooks the Holiday meals. Yay! I make the stuffing, do the baking, and this year made an apple cranberry applesauce. I do wash a lot of dishes! Grant is a little bit of a perfectionist when it comes to many things. He is most particular about HIS kitchen, HIS food….etc.  There was an almost- blow-up one time because he wanted me to label pies…that I baked mind you…for my guests at our summer house. If he had not threatened a spanking I would never have labeled those pies…who labels pies? Never mind…I digress. 

Last Thanksgiving after a wonderful meal, and a lovely but long day, I was clearing the table with the kids. Grant was still at the table over coffee, chatting with his brother, and I really wanted him to sit and relax, especially given how hard he had worked all day. He, of course, was trying to direct me from the dining room! I was busy and very politely ignoring him. 

Finally he got up and came into the kitchen and worked himself up into a scold when he found me in there alone. “I thought I said I wanted the kids in here helping you?” “Yes, Hon, but they did help me clear, and I told them to leave because it is too difficult with all that ‘help’ to get the food into containers. I told them to go and I would call them for dessert.” “But, I wanted them helping.” He responded, and then distracted by my clean up efforts, said “Wait, leave the turkey, I will finish carving that and put it away. Put the potatoes in that container, and don’t fill it too high. And I want the gravy in that…”  As he went on, I hit my tolerance level.  I have been cleaning kitchens, and putting away food for many a year. I thought I could be trusted to handle the Tupperware! I put my hands on my hips and glared “Grant, you need to go keep your brother company. After 49 years I think I can manage the darn Tupperware. This is NOT brain surgery!” I turned my back and started banging containers. “Grant wasn’t moving. “Sara watch your tone with me! I want things done the right way!” I had had it. “What am I an idiot? Leave me alone!” Slam! (plastics hitting stone counter) “That’s it. I want you in the bedroom now!” “Yeah well …I don’t think so!” I answered. We had a 2 sec staring contest and I was not moving! Sheesh…this is LEFTOVERS! Grant scowled and left, and I got the food under control. 

Two minutes later the phone rang and I decided I was not answering. I was still fitting things in the fridge and still not in a great mood! Apparently my brother-in-law answered it, because he came in the kitchen holding the phone out saying, “Sara it’s for you.” I just looked at him…who would be calling on Thanksgiving evening for me? I had talked to all the family, our friends…? “Who is it, Chris?” I asked. He looked a bit bewildered. I don’t know. Some guy with an Indian accent, but he definitely asked to speak to you. I shrugged and took the phone, put it to my ear and said tentatively “Hello?” 

The next thing I heard was that unmistakable HoH tone, “Sara, you have exactly two seconds to get yourself into this bedroom!” Grant had gone in our bedroom and used his cell to call the home phone, and his accent was good enough to fool even his brother! Being smarter than I look, I hustled for the bedroom as discreetly as I could to be met by an irritated man with his arms crossed leaning against the door jamb of our dressing room. “Come over here…now!” he ordered. I did, only to be pulled to him into a big hug, as he growled “Get it together and knock off the attitude!” Whack, whack, whack.  And I did.