Looking for Food in All the Wrong Places
Sep. 22nd, 2007 09:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
captainsblogIt may come as a shock, based on the language and general attitudes perpetuating this space, but I've just begun on another trail of intensive Bible study, beginning last Sunday. My denomination is big on exposing congregants to the essential texts, offering a series of studies denominated Disciple, which I entirely managed to avoid through more than a decade in two churches offering the programs. Nonetheless, two years ago I completed the first of the so-called Second Generation Disciple courses, titled Christian Believer, and I am now on another 30-week journey through (mostly) the front end of the New Testament titled Jesus In the Gospels.
We began our study last Sunday, mainly of the getting-to-know-you variety, but with an invitation to break bread together in the hour between the end of the 11:00 service and the beginning of the 1:00 class. Eleanor and Em had made home-grown versions of our favorite Great Northern pizzas the night before, so I brought in the leftovers and inquired as to where the microwave might be to heat up the slices.
"Oh, there's a microwave in the downstairs kitchen," I was duly informed.
I headed downstairs, and looked all over in this unfamiliar territory, finally finding what looked to be the oven in question- a industrial-size unit mounted under a cabinet with a dial to set the necessary heating time.
Good thing (God thing?) the previous occupants hadn't removed their own cooking- for what I thought was a microwave? Turned out to be a compact-space clothes dryer.
Mmmmmm, pizza and fabric softener. (The real microwave turned out to be hiding behind a propped-open exit door.)
----
Food stupidity then continued throughout the week. Last night, Em had several friends over to watch the season premier of Avatar- The Last Airbender, and earlier in the week, she'd requested turkeyburgers as the preferred menu items for her and the rest of her other non-red-meat-eating posse.
Eleanor duly cooked the burgers, but we wound up with a kitchen full of agitas as my mother-hen daughter proceeded to bitch out both of her parents over various offenses (consuming certain "reserved" beverages, speaking for the "wrong" kind of burger buns, etc., etc.). In the fulness of time, I was dispatched to the patio so as not to cause any more trouble arguing with the kid over these indiscretions. Eleanor brought out the first of our burgers, then disappaeared back into the house for what seemed to be a lonnnnng time, so eventually I broke the moratorium and went back in to find out who was bitching at whom and over what.
While I was doing that, and while intra-family emotions were still running pretty high, one of our dogs proceeded to put all of us humans in our place: Tasha hopped right up onto the outdoor table and helped herself to the first of the turkey burgers to arrive, and by the time we caught her, she had such a pleased-with-herself look on her kisser, it was no longer possible for anyone to remain pissed at anyone.
We love our animals, and incidents like this explain why more than any words ever could.
We began our study last Sunday, mainly of the getting-to-know-you variety, but with an invitation to break bread together in the hour between the end of the 11:00 service and the beginning of the 1:00 class. Eleanor and Em had made home-grown versions of our favorite Great Northern pizzas the night before, so I brought in the leftovers and inquired as to where the microwave might be to heat up the slices.
"Oh, there's a microwave in the downstairs kitchen," I was duly informed.
I headed downstairs, and looked all over in this unfamiliar territory, finally finding what looked to be the oven in question- a industrial-size unit mounted under a cabinet with a dial to set the necessary heating time.
Good thing (God thing?) the previous occupants hadn't removed their own cooking- for what I thought was a microwave? Turned out to be a compact-space clothes dryer.
Mmmmmm, pizza and fabric softener. (The real microwave turned out to be hiding behind a propped-open exit door.)
----
Food stupidity then continued throughout the week. Last night, Em had several friends over to watch the season premier of Avatar- The Last Airbender, and earlier in the week, she'd requested turkeyburgers as the preferred menu items for her and the rest of her other non-red-meat-eating posse.
Eleanor duly cooked the burgers, but we wound up with a kitchen full of agitas as my mother-hen daughter proceeded to bitch out both of her parents over various offenses (consuming certain "reserved" beverages, speaking for the "wrong" kind of burger buns, etc., etc.). In the fulness of time, I was dispatched to the patio so as not to cause any more trouble arguing with the kid over these indiscretions. Eleanor brought out the first of our burgers, then disappaeared back into the house for what seemed to be a lonnnnng time, so eventually I broke the moratorium and went back in to find out who was bitching at whom and over what.
While I was doing that, and while intra-family emotions were still running pretty high, one of our dogs proceeded to put all of us humans in our place: Tasha hopped right up onto the outdoor table and helped herself to the first of the turkey burgers to arrive, and by the time we caught her, she had such a pleased-with-herself look on her kisser, it was no longer possible for anyone to remain pissed at anyone.
We love our animals, and incidents like this explain why more than any words ever could.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-09-23 05:20 am (UTC)Way to go Tasha! Nothing like a cute puppy doing something crazy to bring the family together.
no subject
Date: 2007-09-23 08:30 pm (UTC)