IMG_1058Find a duck,
frozen like a brick,
thaw overnight,
remove gibblets
for later use
add red potatoes,
bake like a chicken,
pheasant, cornish hen
or other bird, insert
orange, onion or other
vegetable, fruit in
vacated cavity,
look for bird ties
use shish ka bob skewers
instead to hold the bird
shut steam broccoli,
over japanese
rehydrated mushrooms
bake carrots
in peanut oil, make
gravy from gibblets
add flour, then stir,
more flour, then stir
simmer, add herbs
basil flowers
oregano may have
been marjoram but
it works with curry
and coriander and fresh
cilantro and parsley
surprise gardening
in the dark

Look for a gravy boat
can’t find it
look for a container that
is gravy sized
still can’t find it
I know I have a yellow
ceramic chicken with
its mouth open
can’t find the bird
so teapot it is

not the teapot
with the strainer
dump hot contents from
rejected teapot into
approved teapot
without the spout strainer
set the table
take pictures of table

find boy #2 Silent Sentinel,
boy #3 My Child,
Girlie is already there
strapped in a chair so where
could she go really
My Bear arrives we
take pictures
while My Child loses his
mind with hunger

I serve the duck
(this duck was a mule and died
smuggling a packet of orange sauce)
the veg, the gravy
My Child salted and
peppered everything
on his plate before tasting it
(he may as well have poured
ketchup on everything)
He probably couldn’t taste the
orange sauce that had
cooked into the meat.

This trick they learned from their father
“when mommy cooks you
mask the flavor of blandness
by camouflaging the food
with salt pepper and ketchup.”

I doubt that there was ever
a conversation about it but
they never salted, peppered
or oversauced his
so spicy it made me cry food.

I believe that food should
be tasted not always covered
in some godawful spicy sauce,
plus it is rude to season
the food without tasting it,
its a mild insult to the cook
that the food probably
tastes like crap. My mom
would have just glared at
him and seethed
“Put that down.”

My mom was no Martha Stewart,
but you ate what you were given
thanked her for it and you
never asked for ketchup
after the meal started.
“Ketchup is a condiment not a sauce.”

I gently removed the shaker from My Child saying
“No” and in two swallows
while I was serving my plate
that I shared with Girlie
(She’s not real good with plates,
yet they’re aerodynamic with
and without food)
he had eaten most of the contents
without waiting for the
rest of us, Wha?

I believe they call these teachable moments:
I did not throw the duck at him
I did not throw the gravy at him
I did not throw a fork at his hand
embedding it into the dining room table
I did not pound my fist on the table
I did explain to him (for the 100th time)
that he was showing bad manners by eating
before we were all served

My Child has an excuse for anything and everything
“I had less than everyone else”
“You gave me less food”
Clusterfuck, subterfuge, changing the subject
to something that has nothing to do with the complaint

The Silent Sentinel chimed in, “You got
yelled at for the same thing at dinner
at our house, what are you talking about?”

I silently thanked the not so Silent Sentinel
for sticking up for me but said, “This is
not jump on My Child night,
so don’t help me parent please.”

I said, “Don’t try to change the subject,
you were rude and you know what good table
manners are, stop arguing and leave the table.”

He denied any slight,
continued to argue,
I cut him off and said.
“Go, now!”
My Child always has to have the
last word, “You ruin everything,”
but he left the table and plopped in
a chair in the living room.
“No video games” I stated.
“Mumble, grumble, mmmmmmggggnnngmm”
too low for the adult ear to hear
like sonar echolocation so he gets the
last word subliminally implanted into my brain,
the rumblings of a salty teenage boy.

Through this whole exchange,
Girlie was imitating screamingwhining
tones and the arguing style of
My Child including the
flapping of her arms for emphasis.
Ugh, dysfunctional child #4?

I had tried to shield her
from this kind of crap.
The parenting counselor even
told My Bear it was his job to
remove Girlie from the room
during this kind of stuff.

Like she doesn’t have dog hearing
like the rest of us, sigh.

My Bear got sucked in
just like the rest of us.

Welcome to Thanksgiving at
the Sobriquet-Reverie house.
Thanks for coming to the MY CHILD SHOW!
Outbursts are scheduled for before and after
Methylphenidate is ingested and wears
off! Sit back, fasten your seatbelts
and get ready for Vandalism, Lies, Diversions
and Arguments and if you’re lucky you’ll get
to see the “Arm wrestle for an electronic device”
portion of the show that is not usually broadcast
on television due to the non G-rated content.
(you young people out there can call it E for Everyone,
but ratings in my day were G, PG, R and X.
There was no PG-13 and there were no ratings
for TV shows, I believe they just showed the racy stuff after 9pm
when young kids should have been in bed anyway.)


Any thoughts on the above post are appreciated! Otherwise, I think I must be living under a rock.

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