Monday, August 4, 2008
Of Pie Guts And Coriander
I am not a huge fan of cake. If I'm going to eat something with four thousand calories on my birthday, it's going to be pie. My sweet mother made a fresh strawberry pie for my birthday dinner last night and, honestly, it was lucky there were nine other people at the table or I would have embarrassed myself with that thing.
And I'm not even that into pie crust or whipped cream; I am all about pie guts. Would it be disgusting to just ask my mother for a giant bowl of strawberry pie guts next year? Because I am completely willing to go there, though it may be a thing best executed in the privacy of my own home.
So, while I've been extremely busy day-dreaming about pie guts, I've also been preparing for a solo, kid-free birthday trip to Seattle this week. And though I'm excited to spend time with family and friends and walk around the city with my camera and drink coffee and go hours and hours without wiping anybody's anything, I am a bit sad about leaving the kids. Though they will be in the super-capable hands of their father (who is acting almost annoyingly nonchalant about the whole thing, which leads me to believe he's treating the four days as a kind of parenting stunt, the big show-off), I still feel antsy and strange about going. And how am I dealing with those uncomfortable emotions, you ask?
With obsessive house cleaning, organizing, and alphabetizing of the spice rack. I told Byron that, on some level, my subconscious self must worry about never coming back, about my plane diving into the Blue Mountains and my children ending up motherless and living in squalor. So this, I think, is my legacy to my children: a perfectly arranged silverware drawer so that they may never have to wonder, "Just how many salad forks do we own?"
And they will always, ALWAYS, be able to find the coriander. (Hint: it's behind the curry, though it should be behind the cumin which we are inexplicably, suddenly out of and I am leaving this family with out a single jar of cumin in the house and surely this means my plane won't go down. Surely.)