Okay, I am not supposed to be doing anything because it’s all under control. So after I return from food shopping for the week I begin to set some things up while my daughter is sleeping. First, the potatoes have to be cooked so they can be chilled for potato salad. While the are cooking, I arrange the grill in a convenient spot in the yard and place the charcoal and lighter fluid out nearby. Cut up the grill box, take out the new table and open it up and set it in a good spot under the tree. Then I get out the plastic dishes, cups, utensils, tablecloth. I wash the new spatulas, tongs, forks, bowls. Set out a nice big garbage bag for trash. Sweep up a little left over grass from yesterday’s mowing.
Then I go inside and shuck the 8 ears of corn they brought over yesterday. Next, check the potatoes and the time, because my daughter wants to get up at 10. I remember to put 10 bottles of water in the fridge. I bring up the two chairs from the basement and wash them off and set them outside. Everything is looking good when my daughter comes downstairs to take a peek. Then I tell her to have her breakfast, her bagel is on the table. “Can this be toasted?”, she asks. “Of course it can,” I answer, “give it to me.” And as she gets her toasted bagel, which I hand her on a plate, I take the potatoes off the stove and rinse them in cold water. “Do you need me to do anything else?” I ask. “No, I have everything under control,” she answers.
She goes to pick up her boyfriend, who is also a member of this high tech production. They walk in with the ribs that have to be baked for an hour or so on this lovely 85 degree day. She takes the bottled beer and tries putting it in the refrigerator. “The beer won’t fit,” she says. “I’ll put it in, just hand it to me,” I say. “Can I have a tray for the asparagus?,” he asks. “Sure, can you use this?” I answer. “Okay, is that it?,” I ask, hoping for an affirmative answer. “Yeah, we’re good.” she tells me. I almost had a foot out of the kitchen when I hear, “should we cook the corn now?” I reply, “No, corn doesn’t take long to cook, wait till the coals are hot.” “Okay, we have everything under control.“ And, upon hearing that, I sneak out of the kitchen, I have a blog to write!
I go down to check on things and figure I better make the potato salad now, because they can’t agree on what time to start cooking. As I make the potato salad, a tall young man wants to know where’s the meat? I ask him if he means the burgers, and he says yes. And then he wants the marinade. I ask which one, the one they brought over or the KC Masterpiece? He doesn’t know so he goes out to check and never comes back, leaving the burgers on the counter. I call my daughter on the cell. Your friend came in for burgers, took them out of the refrigerator and left them on the counter. She gets annoyed (not with me for a change) and comes in to put them back in the fridge. I tell her please let me and your father know when the burgers are done so we can eat and then I go back and do more blogging.
The burgers are done, the salads prepared and things seem to be going smoothly now. I ate a burger and went on my merry way. Now that the cooking and eating is underway, things seem to have settled down. I know I will be summoned again when it’s time for the fruit. I don’t mind. I just wish my daughter was enjoying herself for all the time, expense and work that was involved. She seems tense and annoyed. I tried to explain to her that hosting and entertaining are not for everyone. But who ever listens to me?
Finally, the fruit is sent out! The dishes are almost all done. The leftovers are wrapped. The trash is all packed. The beer is all gone. Just a few minor details to wrap this all up! Now I take a breath and say, “It’s all under control!”
