Food fetish

June 4, 2013

Pouring rain and 53 degrees. Dad claims when we were kids they took us to the lake on the 4^th of July and we had to leave almost immediately since it was obviously too cold for us to stay and play. Certainly not a temperature conducive to swimming, as our lips turned blue instantaneous after submerging our feet in the frigid water. I’m certain all nine of us were sorely disappointed since we adored being at the lake. Most likely complained the entire drive, until my father relented, and took us to the Dairy Queen for a dipped cone.  Must have been a fortune to provide a treat diversion for nine of us.

Been googling things such as “How to get mold out of a wool coat,” “accordion repair shops near Madison,” “museum donation contact information,” various spelling options to track an artist whose signature is illegible on the print, tracking an antique dealer who took goods in 2000 and has subsequently closed the shop, barred the door, gone under. Great. Dad doesn’t appear stressed yet I am, just considering his position to get the unique merchandise returned or cash in hand.

The electric company representative phoned me late yesterday afternoon to inform me the reconnection had taken place and I could flip the switch to “close” or “on.” The home phone rang and an agent informed me the work order is being processed and the electricity should be turned on by Friday of this week. I informed her that it has already been taken care of and she sounded shocked, taken aback since the company had seemingly just received the faxed documents in their department this morning.

Dad is having a venison sausage sandwich and I bring out the Tofurkey.  He buys steaks and I head to the frozen food section to toss veggie burgers into the cart. We agree on chocolate cookies and pretzels at least. I don’t feel pressured to gobble down killed animals and he isn’t sore about my soy options. We get along famously.

Relationships are complex.  As I process through all of the household items I think about the finality of it all. Will there be arguments about the antiques, things my mother loved to collect then left to dad who certainly seems to enjoy their company. A brother is in charge of the estate, named executor, who seems a good choice with his organizational skills, patience and good idea as to what dad wants and needs done. Most of all, he is calm and not excitable, which is not the case with me. We are fortunate that dad has a number of options for living quarters, should he choose to live with family in the future, not many families have that luxury.  Besides, dad is well-mannered and a great contributor to the household. We all seem to enjoy his company and parallel his philosophy in life.