272 - It didn't end there...

Soooooo... remembered to take the steak out of the refrigerator... cleaned the grill... made the herb mix for the dipping sauce... got the fire started... preheated the oven... everything's ready to go. Mom and dad come over and THE PANIC follows them through the door. It's palpable. No hi, hello, how are you? Just, "I need a pan." I clench.

Then all hell breaks loose...

Mom -- J? Where's the bag with the bread in it?

Dad -- I don't B... wherever you put it.

Mom -- (giving him THE LOOK) I gave it to you to bring. Well if you didn't bring it in, it has to be in the car. Did you check the car?

Dad -- I brought in everything that was in the car.

Mom -- (giving him THE LOOK x 2) Well then it's at the house... you're going to have to go get it.

Dad -- I'll be back.

Know what happens in the horror movies when people say they'll be right back? They don't come back. Dad didn't come back for almost half a frickin' hour. In the meantime, the aunt and uncle have arrived. I give them THE TOUR, then I put the steaks on. There's a nice satisfying sizzle, laying aluminum foil over the grate to get it really hot until it's time to put the steaks on worked! Yippee! The dance of joy was performed internally.

Dad calls. He can't find THE BAG. This doesn't go over well with mom. THE PANIC is intensifying. I refuse to get sucked into it. A trip to the store is not out of the question. The steaks are almost done. The potatoes are almost done. Dad is still out there somewhere.

Mom asks me if I stirred the mushrooms. I have been out at the grill, the mushrooms were her idea, she cut them up, she put them into the pan, she's been IN CHARGE of the mushrooms. "Well they need to be stirred every once in a while." I point out that they were here responsibility. She asks when they became her responsibility. I relate the conversation that started with, "I thought I'd fry up some mushrooms, is that okay?" I win an argument. This day is marked in history... Mother's Day 2010, Kristy wins argument, not by admission, but by default, because there was no further arguing.

Score.

Mom steps on Daphne. Equal parts Daphne's fault and mom's... Daphne just plops down, and tends to plop down on the area rug which mostly closely resembles her fur (similarly, Gracie tends to plop down on the white tile which most closely resembles her coloring... I think they're trying to kill me... remember the copperheads?). Daphne is used to me avoiding her (well... stepping on her). Mom doesn't look, she's used to cats that get out of her way. Plus, ever since her cataract surgery, she's had diplopia, so she sees two images sometimes. In any case, Daphne didn't like being stepped on, but she's a very forgiving kitty, and they were buddies again in no time.

Dad returns. Emptyhanded. Mom now realizes she left the lettuce at home. We can't have salad without lettuce. Now they are both gone. The steaks are done.

I get another CALL. They can't find the lettuce. We won't be having salad. Okay. Frankly we always make too much food so this is fine with me. I decide to pour the olives into the tomatoes and make that the salad.

They find THE BAG. In the trash. They bring it. Now I must slice the avocados, because that is my ASSIGNED JOB. Whenever there are avocados to be sliced, I slice them. And they totally missed out on my skillz. I cut them in half, twisted them open, chopped the knife into the seed and twisted it out just like they do on tv, then I scooped out the flesh with a spoon and sliced them up. No one saw me. It's like it never happened. I'm so sad. It was a fine moment...

Dinner is a smashing success... even though we essentially ate garbage.

Phew.

Have I told you that I will never mention that I have steak in the freezer again?

But it was fun to hang out with my crazy family. We had a good time and everyone rolled with the punches. Then we had lemon icebox pie. It's like key lime pie, but with lemon. I like lemons (with salt or without). In fact, instead of a birthday cake, I ask for lemon icebox pie. That's how I roll.

So here's how to impress your guests next time you throw a dinner party:

Grab equal parts basil, oregano, rosemary, garlic, salt and add a few red pepper flakes. Chop the fuck out of it (sorry Ms. A). Toss the resultant green mash onto a plate. Drown that shit in olive oil. Have your guests dip their bread in it. If someone doesn't like it, they were never really your friend anyway. There is something genetically wrong with them. Seriously. I don't know if they have a Carraba's where you are, but if they do, eat there. It's the best food ever. And this is their dipping sauce.

P.S. Yes there is one leftover steak. But I suffered so greatly for it that I just can't bring myself to share...