Memories

As I buttered bread a memory came to mind. I thought to create a new blog: Things I Did Wrong As A Wife. I got yelled at for slicing my husband's sandwich on a diagonal. "I'm not a baby," he barked.

Well, gee, my mother always sliced sandwiches or toast on a diagonal. So do restaurants. How would I know slicing that way was wrong and only for babies? From that memory it was a short leap to me not being allowed to call spaghetti sauce gravy as I had been doing since whenever I was old enough to talk and learn names of things.

I get nostalgic when I hear elderly Italians talk about gravy, meaning sauce made from tomatoes. I loved flavoring my sauce with pork, which would make the definition ~ gravy ~ appropriate. At home we browned meatballs in frying pan, then added to the simmering tomato paste sauce. Later I learned to brown them in the oven or not bother with browning at all ~ just drop the rolled balls carefully into the bubbling pot, so as not to splatter.

We also cooked chicken in tomato sauce ~ Chicken Cacciatore. Since the definition of gravy is using meat drippings, thickened, to make, um, a sauce, it seems the Italian use of gravy was fitting.

Memories! I set the table with a spoon when we were having peas. Spoons, the ex informed me in his usual nasty tone, were for eating soup, that is all. Maybe he even ate ice cream with a fork, but I do not think so. Again, I grew up using a spoon for peas and other vegetables, like corn. So big deal, he did not, he could have said nothing and just ate his with his fork.

Little things, really, but no matter what, there was one way, his way, and he was going to have it even if he had to resort to physical violence to get it. Makes me sad; memories. Hurts. No man was going to climb the highest mountain, swim the deepest sea for me. I was never poetry in motion, just the devil in disguise. As with many who cheat, he accused me of his wrong, never believing me or trusting that I was not. What a life for a young adult.

Another of my big crimes: I served eggs sunny side up. Oops. I only dished out 3 scoops of ice cream. I actually thought 3 scoops was the norm ~ how we did it at home. Likely reason: 3 scoops all around finished the 1/2 gallon of ice cream.

All couples have differences. People grow up in different homes, learn to do things the way the family does. No need to get angry or fight over those differences. To insist that the other person change because "that's the way we always did it" is wrong. Being part of a couple, especially a married one, means creating a new family dynamic ~ just the two of you; blending of family traditions or starting entirely new ones is better. Yet some people do not have the ability to change. Whatever.