RAINING RICE

“DINNER!” I called as I placed the last serving bowl on the table.

My husband Steven and our son Alex came into the dining room.

“Oh, rice! We don't have that very often.” Steven said as he sat down and laid the napkin on his lap.

Alex sat down too. “Hey, you're right.” He looked over at me. “Why don't we have rice more often?”

“Because of you!” I laughed.

Alex looked confused. “I don't get it.” he looked over at Steven. “I like rice.”

Steven just shook his head. “Your Mom's just a little OCD when it comes to rice.”

“Oh, come on!” I cried. “OCD? You remember the mess!”

Alex still looked confused. “I'm not following either one of you.”

I handed the platter of chicken cutlets to him. “When you were little...”

“Still in your highchair.” Steven added.

“You would be tossing rice all over the room.” I passed the bowl of broccoli to him. “I must have had the biggest 'splat mat' they made, under your chair, and you could still fling it past that!”

Alex took the bowl from me. “I can't believe you're still holding that against me!”

“I'm not holding it against you.” I picked up the bowl of rice and took a spoonful. “I'm holding it against me! Do you know how hard it is to get rice off a hardwood floor?”

Alex shook his head. “No.”

“It's close to impossible!” I handed him the bowl of rice. “You can't sweep it up, it gets stuck to the broom. You have to get on your hands and knees and try getting it up with a paper towel but there's still a sticky mess left on the floor so then you have to go get a mop and wash the whole area.” I began cutting a piece of my cutlet. “After you do that a few times you just take rice out of your dinner rotation.”

Alex looked over at Steven. “I think she's holding a grudge.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Hey, it's just easier to pick up a dropped potato. That's all I'm saying.”

“When was the last time I dropped anything on the floor?” Alex asked. “And if I did it was an accident.”

“Of course it's an accident now. The only time you threw food for fun was when you were in your highchair.”

Alex took the rice bowl and began serving himself another spoonful when a few grains dropped to the table. “You've got to be kidding!” he cried as he looked at me shaking his head.

I looked at the few grains and smiled at him. “Try scooping them up from the table.”

Alex took his napkin and sweep them up, leaving a starchy streak behind.

“That's what I'm talking about. If that had been potatoes you'd be done. Now you're going to need a wet paper towel to finish the job.”

Alex got up and got a wet paper towel then came back to the table. “It really isn't that big a deal.”

I smiled at him. “You're right. When it's only a few grains on the table. But when it's the entire bowl on the floor you'd take years to bring it back into rotation too.”

Alex went to throw out the paper towel. “So what else don't you serve because of me?” he asked as he came back to the table.

I thought about it for a moment. “Nothing.” I said.

Steven laughed. “What about eggplant?”

“I hate eggplant.” Alex had a disgusted looked on his face.

I laughed. “And that's why we don't have that anymore.”

REMOTE HEAT

My son Alex and I were standing at the front door, waving good-by to my husband Steven, as his car pulled out of our driveway, headed for the airport.

“I sure hope he has fun while he's away.” I said as I closed the door. I couldn't help but shiver as the cold from outside was still in the foyer. I rubbed my hands together and looked at the thermostat. “It's a little chilly in here isn't it?”

Alex zipped up his sweatshirt. “That's because we had the front door open. It'll warm up in the few minutes.”

I looked over at Alex as a realization came over me. “Do you have the thermostat app on your phone?” I asked.

Alex shook his head. “Dad tried to download it on my phone last night but it wouldn't go through.”

“I don't have the app on my phone either.” I was feeling a little concerned. “What if we want to change the heat while he's gone.” I went over to the new thermostat he had installed a few months ago. “Is there a way to manually change it?” As I got closer to the smooth round circle on the wall it lit up and told me it was 29 degrees outside. “Okay, so I know what the temperature is outside. Where does this thing tell me what the temperature is inside?”

Alex went across the room to another device on a shelf in the dining room. “It says it's 72 degrees inside.”

I shrugged my shoulder. “Well, that seems warm enough. But still, how do we change it?”

“I guess the same way we did before.” Alex started to laugh. “We call Dad and tell him we're cold.”

I shook my head and sighed. “He's going across the country to a time zone that's three hours behind us.”

Alex shrugged his shoulders. “Oh well, it's only for the weekend. He'll be back Monday.”

As I watched Alex walk back to his room I couldn't help but call out to him. “You know we're suppose to get snow this weekend.”

Alex stopped and looked back at me. “Yeah, I heard that.”

“Do you know how to use the snow blower?” I had a hopeful tone for my question.

Alex shook his head. “Nope.”

“Me either.” I sighed. “I guess we'll have to hope for a dusting.”

Alex walked back to me and patted me on the shoulder. “We'll be fine. He's only going to be gone for a few days.”
“I know. It's just that I should know how to do these things.”

Alex laughed. “Why? When you go away do you think we're sitting around wondering who's going to be cooking dinner?” He gave me another pat on the arm. “Or even crazier saying that we should learn how to cook a pot roast?” He looked at me with a big smile on his face. “Of course not! We just pick up the phone and order out!”

Now I had to laugh. “I guess you're right. Your Dad's good at some things and I'm good at others. If it gets cold in here I can always text him to turn up the heat.”

“See. Now you're getting it! So what are you thinking about for dinner?”

I went over to the take-out menu drawer. “I'm thinking Italian.”

BIRDHOUSE ENVY

I pulled on my tall rubber boots then grabbed my sweatshirt before walking to the back door. “I'm headed out to do some house cleaning!” I said to my husband Steven as I passed him in the kitchen.

He had all the ingredients for a turkey and Swiss sandwich laid out in front of him. “Okay.” He said as he pulled two slices of bread from the wrapper.

I stopped at the back door and looked over at him. “Aren't you going to ask me why I'm leaving the house to do house cleaning?”

Steven looked up and slowly shook his head, he'd just dipped his knife in the mayo jar and had stopped, holding the knife in mid-air with the mayo on it. “I wasn't. But now that you want me to I will.”

I couldn't help but smile. “I'm going to clean out the bird house.” I walked over to the kitchen window to look at our little wooden birdhouse tucked in the woods. “I love that we've had a family in there every Spring.” I zipped up my sweatshirt and headed to the back door again. “If I do it today it'll make me feel like Spring is coming!”

“It's January you know.” Steven laughed.

“I know. But it's not that cold out today so it's the perfect time. I don't want to forget and then our house finches find someplace else to raise their family.”

“They could always use the new birdhouse I got you for Christmas.”

That made me stop. “I feel a little guilty about that new birdhouse.” I admitted.

“What?” Steven had finished making his sandwich and was headed to the kitchen table. “That birdhouse is beautiful! I thought you loved it?”

“I do!” I said as I followed him to the table and sat down with him. “It is beautiful! I love the copper roof and the lines of it are gorgeous!” I cried. “That's why I wanted to hang it in the front yard, so everyone could see it!”

“So, why do you feel guilty?”

“Well,” I shrugged my shoulders. “I kind of feel like we've changed the real estate in the neighborhood. Our backyard birdhouse is more of a working class house, simple and functional. But our new front yard birdhouse is like taking a stroll in a million dollar neighborhood.” I looked at Steven as he took a bite of his sandwich. “What if the back yard birds start to envy the front yard bird family?”

Steven swallowed then shook his head and started to laugh before he took another bite of his sandwich.

I shrugged my shoulders as I got up and went to the back door. I was finally ready to head out and get my house cleaning done when I stopped to add one more thought. “I have to admit when I unwrapped the new one on Christmas I really did think that whoever moves in it will feel like they've got the best house in the neighborhood!”

DREAMS VS REALITY

The winter catalog from our local college had arrived packed with dozens of interesting non-credited courses. As I read through all of the different class descriptions I was getting just as excited as my kids used to get when they looked through the holiday toy catalog.

I held the booklet up for my husband Steven to see. “This class says that if I can write my own name they can teach me how to draw!”

Steven started to laugh. “They haven't seen how you write your name.”

He had a point. No one had ever stopped to admire my penmanship. Truthfully there were times when I had a hard time reading it myself. So I read further down in the course description. “It doesn't mention that it has to be legible. It only says if you can write it they can teach you. Learning how to sketch has always been a dream of mine.”

Steven didn't seem that excited. But I figured that was because he was a natural sketch artist. You could hand him a pencil and he could effortlessly sketch a landscape within a few minutes.

I, on the other hand, had a hard time making stick figures. I'd always envied people like him who could capture the scene in pencil then return home where they would transfer that quick sketch into something beautiful using watercolor or pastels.

For years I'd been tempted to take an art class but I was always intimidated. What if I found out that I was un-teachable. I'd had a reoccurring dream that an art instructor was standing next to me looking at the sketch I'd just completed and was quietly trying to ask me if I'd be interested in a refund.

I quickly re-read the course description that I had in my hand. “This is the first time I've come across a course that seemed made for me.” I looked over at Steven and smiled. “I think I'll sign up for it!”

The excitement in my voice made Steven smile. “I think you should too. When does it start?”

I looked at the bottom of the description. I was hardly able to see the dates and times because I was already picturing myself holding my own sketch book, finally able to create realistic pictures of the local flora and fauna. Then I saw the time. “Oh, wait. This could be a problem.” I sighed.

“What?”

“The class starts at 8:00 at night.”

“So?”

“You know I like to be in my pj's by that time. Especially this time of year when it's dark at 4:30!” I sighed again. “I'm never going to want to leave our nice warm house and go out in the cold and dark.”

“Even to fulfill one of your dreams?”

I sadly nodded my head. “It's too bad but I think reality will win on this one.”

Steven just shook his head.