Maybe You Should Cook

I double-dipped on Saturday night. We were a family cleanly divided between Halloween parties. Yes, I do know that I should have said we were divided among parties since there were actually three parties that night, but do you really care?? Checkered was going to a party given by the absolute master of party planning, the Majestic Domestic. That, in itself put some pressure on me because she is a quick wit and does not suffer fools gladly. Then, I was told to bring some food. So I thought and thought for three weeks about what I should bring. But by the day of the party, I still didn't have any good ideas because I knew what the Majestic Domestic would serve would be beautiful, perfect, and popular. Anything I could send wouldn't work. Period.

So shortly before that party began, I went to allrecipes.com and used their ingredient search. My first result told me that I shouldn't bother them anymore until I went grocery shopping. Then I looked around again and realized I did have cherry pie filling, crushed pineapple, and yellow cake mix in the house. That, in itself, is a veritable dump cake bonanza.

Ninety minutes later, my 30 minute cake was rock hard to the touch and slightly soggy in the middle. Checkered and the two oldest kids were already late for their party, but I couldn't send a failed recipe to the Majestic Domestic's party. The younger two kids and I were late for our other party, so there was no time to make anything else. This faux cake was actually a cobbler in a bundt cake. There was no way it could be inverted onto a serving platter. How would I know if it was done?

Thinking quickly, I dipped a spoon into the mess and sampled. It was okay! It would attend the party after all. Then I remembered that I had forgotten to really TASTE the cake, so I dipped the spoon in again. And that is when Checkered came to life with his accurate indictment of the double-dip -- and for a public gathering, no less!!

I acted embarrassed.  How silly of me to double-dip!  But all the while I was thinking, "Checkered, if you only knew ... "

Her Shirt Made Me Blush

At 9:00 the other night, I was at the grocery store. My only goal was to get 50 percent of the items I needed. Remember, I never shop with a list, so 50% would be fantabulous.

I got into line and got back out only twice because I remembered some other essential item from my non-list.

Finally, I got back in line and paid and was leaving when I saw another mother. I started to walk around her when I paused to read her shirt. This shirt was the first time I've seen such a sentiment expressed in women's apparel. It wasn't an image. It wasn't just an explicit word or two. What was on her shirt was an absolute vulgarity. Really, really vulgar. The expression was one I probably didn't even know until I read some trashy novels in my 20's.

So, freedom of speech and all that, right?

Except for one thing: her son who was maybe 8 or 9 was walking behind her. He is old enough to read. Does he understand what his mom's shirt means? I really hope not and hope he won't know for a while yet.

I was sickened by the shirt and came home to complain to my husband. His response? He wanted to know why I didn't tell the woman that her shirt offended me. That is how he handles things. He feels that every time we don't challenge something like that, society slips a bit farther into the abyss.

That is NOT how I handle things. I am too scared that someone will shoot me for confronting them. SO, I just cringe and seethe and vent at my husband.

How would you have reacted? Are you a confrontationalist or an inward seether?