Katy McKenna Raymond  
Personal blog of christian writer Katy McKenna Raymond in Kansas City, Missouri

Personal blog of christian
writer & fallible mom
Katy McKenna Raymond
in Kansas City, Missouri


Katy is represented by
Greg Johnson at
WordServe Literary

Read more Katy at
LateBoomer.net

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Cool Shunnings

I've spent the better part of three days cooking for Kev's graduation party, arranging and then rearranging the piles of trays, bowls, and roaster pans full of goodies until the fridge is fairly filled with festive foods.

We'll have "Mary's Manicotti," "Mom's Best Garlic Bread," "Bridget's Fine Fruit Salad," "Liz's Bunches of Stuff Broccoli Casserole," "Carrie's Peanut Butter Cups," and "Annie Fowler's Lemon Bars." Not to mention "Katy's Low-Carb Sugar-Free Triple-Threat Choco-Mousse Delight."

Before I could start filling the fridge, though, I had to empty it. And scrub it. Hard. Until. It. Shone.

The fridge had been ignored for too long. The Rubbermaid containers of mostly green furry remains leered at me when I removed their plastered-on lids, mocked my absence from their lives, dared me to delve deeper into their psyches, to touch their repulsive insides.

It pained me to realize that I'd made them what they were--mere relics of their former creations, now encrusted in an eternal patina of mold.

And still I recognized them at their core, acknowledged what they had been, and what they might have been had they not quickly lost my attention: macaroni and cheese from that night after the game six weeks ago, DiGiorno pizza from the evening we hurried to get to the band concert a couple months back, an expensive cut of cheese from Christmas Eve, and Kev's ancient homemade truffles with a serious attitude problem.

And then there's the hot dogs--um, we won't talk about the hot dogs.

My fridge was downright nasty, and yet even my sorry leftovers evoked memories of good family times, shared meals, and even a culinary experiment or two.

Now that the fridge is starting fresh, I wish I could say I'll do better with the leftover manicotti, fruit salad, and broccoli casserole, but I know myself.

All I can say for sure is that when I pull the fuzzy manicotti out of the fridge several months from now, Kev will have started college. I'll peel the lid off the Rubbermaid, accidentally inhale the stench of the rotten ricotta, and cry.

No more soccer macaroni, no more band concert pizza, no more graduation manicotti.

Leftovers will never be the same.
Posted by Katy on 05/14/04 at 05:30 PM
Fallible Comments...
  1. Mom-very touching. But don't cry yet--there will be two more college graduations, 3 wedding showers, and plenty of baby showers. Life is just beginning and there will always be plenty of leftovers.

    -----
    Posted by Carrie  on  05/15/04  at  01:32 AM
  2. only you could write so elequently about moldy leftovers....
    Posted by lisa j  on  05/16/04  at  07:32 AM
  3. aww katy...unless you're going to all of a sudden become a pro at cooking for two, you and doug will still have plenty of leftovers to grow funky moss on together...
    Posted by lisa  on  05/18/04  at  03:15 AM
  4. You have all cheered my heart. And to think I'd imagined life as I'd known it to be rotting away...but, no! "Grow mold with me, the best is yet to be!" Thanks for the encouragement.
    Posted by Katy  on  05/28/04  at  12:59 AM
  5. ;) that's what we're here for.
    Posted by lisa  on  05/28/04  at  10:22 AM
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