This past weekend was the fourth Sunday of Lent, and this continues to be an interesting one. I wore my black velvet headband headcovering, and I definitely prefer the coverings that tie in the back. They stay put very nicely. After Lent, I'd love to pick up a few more. I'll keep you posted :) At any rate, Hank went up for Children's Liturgy of the Word like a big boy, despite being one of only 4 kids that went up (Father Jay looked down at them and said, "we seem to be missing some of the little children today..." :) All went well.
Later that day, the 3 of us traveled to my parents' house to celebrate my dad's birthday. We're arriving slightly later than originally planned because my parents had a wake to go to immediately prior to our visit. We arrive to find my mom fluttering about the house anxiously. Does this sound familiar? Yes, it's true. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. We are ushered inside, and my mom announces:
"The lasagna is still frozen."
I'll pause the story at this point to mention that I absolutely adore my mother and we get along famously. As well, we're very much like each other in many ways. She never fails though, to provide many an amusing anecdote with some of her idiosyncrasies. And for whatever reason, food takes FOREVER to cook in her house. Originally, I assumed it was because of the sheer denseness of some of the dishes she makes (cue the lasagna...), but now I'm beginning to believe it has to be her oven.
"The lasagna has been thawing since yesterday, and it's been in the oven for 5 hours!"
"Ok. Well, mom? Maybe you need a new oven? You've had this one a really long time, and..."
"Well!" *huffy sigh* "Ovens aren't cheap, you know!"
"Yes, I know. But you can get one for well under $500."
"Not with a ceramic top!"
*sighs* My mom doesn't like change.
"Well yes, but isn't it more important to have an oven that cooks the food in a reasonable amount of time?"
Her glower seems to imply that she does not agree with me. So I drop it. The lasagna is snappily placed back into the oven. Meanwhile, Henry has begun to whine, and I pacify him as best I can.
An hour passes. The lasagna is re-checked, and is still frozen in the center. I find it prudent to hold my tongue and simply attempt to set the table amongst the piles of unexplained paperwork and small appliances that litter the kitchen. I am who I am about de-cluttering my house because of my mom: she hordes more stuff than anyone in the free world. I still have nightmares about helping her clean out the basement as a teenager.
I'm starting to get a tad anxious because it's getting late and Henry is becoming tired and cranky. I posit the idea of slicing off individual pieces along the edges of the pan and microwaving them if need be. My mom isn't too thrilled about this plan, but she complies. We find that the slices along the sides are cooked just fine. I spoon out salad and everyone sits down to eat. We're all happily munching lasagna noodles when the next bomb is dropped:
"OH NO. The ice cream cake!"
So, here we have the opposite problem of the lasagna. Food takes an eternity to get hot in my parent's house, yet the freezer manages to keep things somewhere in the range of zero kelvin. My parent's have this mammoth Amana deep freeze in their basement that you can only hold open for seconds at a time lest your very extremities succomb to frostbite. My sisters and I all know that the deep freeze is the death knell for having ice cream anytime in this century - you take a quart of ice cream out of that baby and you could crush someone's skull with it.
After my mom's proclamation, we all freeze in horror; Henry has been promised ice cream cake, and if we do not deliver, we will have one unhappy 4 year old on our hands. My dad immediately
"I'll get it!" The cake is henceforth rescued from the dreaded deep freeze. As we eat, my mom continues to comment,
"It's going to be a LONG TIME before the cake is ready to be cut. A LONG TIME."
We finish our lasagna and clean up. My dad is dispatched to wield the cleaver that is necessary to cut through the ice cream cake. He manages to hack off enough slices to accommodate each of us. Following that, Henry is quickly stuffed into his jacket and Spider Man sneakers for an immediate trip home and usherance to his bed... And there you have a typical visit to the home of the Catholic Librarian's parents. Fun times.
Ok, finally, my craft update (for those that care :) Here is my latest baby hat creation:
It's *much* better than the last one I made. On this one, the brim doesn't roll up, plus the colored swatches on the lower rows "puff out" in purl stitch, instead of laying flat like the last one. Here are the 2 hats together:
The newer one is on the right. I'm now starting a pink hat for a baby girl...