Monthly Archives: September 2014



Every night it’s:

What’s for dinner?

I don’t know what would you like?

I don’t know. What do you have?

MMMMMM, let’s see.  There’s turkey. I could make turkey meatloaf with mashed potatoes & vegetables?

Nah, not tonight.  What else do you have?

Well, I could use the turkey to make hamburgers?

With turkey?  What are you weird or something?

Ok, well, let me think.  I have fish sticks?  We could have fish sticks and tater tots with a salad on the side.

That sounds gross!

OK so then you tell ME what you want.

I don’t know!

Oh how I wish ‘I don’t know’ was in a cookbook somewhere.  Could Bobby Flay or Jamie Oliver come up with a dish that was easy to make and pleased a myriad of people so that when they said ‘I don’t know’ the cooks could whip up a batch of it?

What about the dreaded ‘I don’t care’? That one is even worse than the ‘I don’t know’. The ‘I don’t care’ means:

I care.  I care more than you know.  But, I want you to guess. I want you to list off all the things you possibly could make with the items that you have readily available in the pantry. And then – then I will disagree with them all until you get totally fed up with my distaste for all things economical, easy, and homemade. You will finally succumb to what I really want. That which I knew I wanted all along by suggesting it yourself, you will think that you are brilliant and finally figured out how to please me.  The joke is on you though.  HA! I knew what I wanted, but told you I didn’t know so that you would have to work hard to figure out what I wanted.  Now, now we sit down to a delicious dinner of my choosing.  Now, you will suggest it more often than you did in the past and I will trick you for a while into thinking that ‘I don’t care’ means a particular food and THEN I will switch it up and that will become one of the many things ‘I don’t like’.

And the game goes on.

Night after night we have this discussion and night after night I am the one who figures out what we are going to eat and usually they love it!  Why do I ask the the questions?  Does it really matter what they want to eat?  I guess I want them to feel included.  Really all they care about is that I cook, we eat, dishes get cleaned (well, they don’t really care about that), & we get snack right before bed.  This is the routine of a mom after 6:00 (or 8:00 depending on your evening schedule).  We do it for love (and because we need to eat too).  We do it because society suggests (firmly) that it is our position in life, even if we have worked 8-10 hours (plus a commute), even if we have spent the day volunteering for our kids schools, even if (you fill in the blanks for your season of life).  We do it because that is how we were trained.

I don’t have any resentment to this job.  Really, I love to cook.  It is one of the things I enjoy most.  But like most I like to cook what I want and when you have other mouths to feed you want to ensure they are happy at the end of the day too.



I come from a military family.  We moved many places before we landed in our current “home-town” 25 years ago.  I have lived here long enough to call it home and really mean it.  I, however, do not have the life long friends and family living around me like so many of my peers do.  For a very long time I kept myself from developing long term friends. I often shielded myself from would be soul sisters,  so that if on the very far off chance I moved AGAIN they wouldn’t be hurt and I wouldn’t have to pick up and move on.  I have met and collected several friends, people I still consider close, along the way but some of them live to far away to have even scheduled time together (vacation time doesn’t count, although treasured) and others, who live closer, have busy lives (similar to mine) and we have to work VERY hard to schedule the time to see each other (we’re talking once a quarter or twice a year at best).

And then came the honks.

These people who liked me from the moment we met (not that the others didn’t).  These people who shared so much in common with me in almost every arena of life.  These people who lived close enough to have a real and often spur of the moment relationship with.  These people who I now share inside jokes with and esoteric stories with.  Our children who become closer and closer to each other with every passing play date (don’t tell them I called it that).  Our husbands who are growing fonder and fonder of the idea that their wives have friends who are nice, interesting, and share a faith in Christ that is real and honest.

These are my honks.  My girls.  The ones who will never leave me behind. The ones who honk to make sure I’m ok.  These are the people who I can be my most real with (aside from my immediate family). I know that when I need to cry they will be there to support me in whatever way I need.  I know that when I find something funny they will laugh even if they think it is stupid, after they told me it was stupid and they are laughing because it is stupid not because it is funny (I am actually funny, I think, but maybe that is in my own head). They are the life long friend who haven’t been around my whole life-time but feel like they should have been.  They just fit.  They are like a balm to the soul that soothes and heals helping to make, otherwise rough edges, soft and approachable.

While we don’t all match perfectly, we are perfect for each other.  While, sometimes we are REALLY busy and do not have time to talk with each other the way we would like to we are praying every day for one another.  And while we have our own jobs, families, and other responsibilities we still are able to make it work on so many levels.

I am blessed to have been awarded my honks.  My gaggle of geese that check on me every so often, honking in my general direction. They are the best and I love them!