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Dad has always been a whiz in the kitchen; breakfast is his specialty. Corned beef hash, thin and crispy eggs over easy with that little bit of grease skin on top that hugs the egg and prevents it from bursting until its time, and home fries from scratch that are to die for! He glides around the kitchen plucking ingredients from the cabinets while entertaining us with witty snippets usually unfiltered, inappropriate and brash. Seventy-five years young, six foot three inches tall, not a grey strand of hair, baby blue eyes and a devilishly charming smile that is hypnotic. If one could conjure up an image, picture Emeril Lagasse with the personality of Mel from Mel’s Diner (a television show from the 1980s starring Linda Lavin).
He is known throughout the family lovingly as The Kitchen B*tch, a title he wears so proudly he has it embroidered on his oven mitts and his mapon, it’s his made-up word for man apron that originated from our Italian grandmothers “mopine” which means dish towel. Dad is feeling father time and get’s very impatient in the kitchen nowadays which leads to more inappropriate language and arguments with inanimate objects. Yesterday he got sprayed with hot oil from frying chicken cutlets and for some reason took it personally. He looked at it like it just slapped him in the face and started yelling obscenities at it and challenging it. He took out a spatula and squeezed the life out of that cutlet mumbling under his breath “I KNOW you don’t want to mess with me”.
Last week dad hosted a lovely Valentine’s Day family Brunch, and because it was a special occasion, he sprung for Heinz Ketchup, which he stopped buying when double coupon days ended at Shop Rite. It’s an Irish/Italian family, so there is always laughing, yelling, and the day inevitably ends with someone banging their hand on the table pissed off at some comment. It is mentally exhausting, and I can’t wait to get home and hide in the pantry with a glass of wine and decompress.
My zen moment is interrupted by a phone call from dad; we chat for a bit about the day; he tells me it was fun everyone had a lot of laughs, and my son needs a haircut, he’s starting to look like he belongs in a boy band. I try to sip my wine quietly, agree with what he is saying and acquiesce to the haircut. Before hanging up, he says “By the way, I know you robbed my Heinz Ketchup.” What???? This could go south in many ways, very quickly, so I stick to one line and say “Dad, I didn’t take your ketchup, trust me I don’t have it.” I hear a hmmph from the other end of the phone, and then he hangs up.
Two days later dad rings me up and says he’s coming over for tea and he’s bringing cheese Danish. Wow, I thought, how random, and on a Tuesday night, he must be lonely. Little did I know this was merely a cover in his plot, to come over and search for proof that I heisted the Heinz. He places the Danish on the table, fixes his tea and takes a seat. Slowly from out of nowhere a Tupperware container emerges; I recognize this container, it was a limited edition one with little compartments that’s gone missing for the past six months!
Dad continues to stir his tea, lifts his head looks up, and he slowly slides the container over to me “Just give me back the ketchup”.” It was like a scene out of the Godfather; I couldn’t believe he was trying to strike a deal using my Tupperware he swiped months ago! Once again I explained I did not have his coveted condiment and even offered for him to look through my refrigerator. The look on his face was nothing less than sheer disgust. He pursed his lips, shook his head and withdrew his offering of my Tupperware from the table.
Days went by and just when I thought it was over, he always managed to somehow sprinkle it in the conversation as a chilling reminder that I had cheated him. As a peace offering, I purchased him the mega two pack of Heinz and left it by the front door with a little bottle of chocolate milk. Insulted at my gesture, he escalated the issue and texted me “You can’t buy honor.”
I am a grown woman who is clawing her way for forgiveness and exoneration over a condiment. This man has lost his mind! For the next two days, I waxed and waned from seething to anguish over this situation and decided to respond the way I do with the children when they behave like well, children. I would call him and acknowledge his anger and his right to have a hissy fit but let him know that I will no longer entertain such childlike notions.
He answered the phone on the first ring, and without allowing him to say anything, I spew out a diatribe about accountability, actions and consequence are to said actions. Silence on the other end of the phone followed by my father saying, “honey you sound stressed, you must have had a rough day, do you want to come over for tea? Oh, I found the ketchup when I was putting away the chocolate milk you got me, it was behind the soy sauce on the door of the refrigerator.”
And just like that, the conversation was closed. Got to love dad.
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