That Pride Will Get You

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Yesterday I made what is really an ordinary dinner meal, at least for me it was ordinary. It was Sunday, and I like to make a nice big meal on Sunday. So, after noon Mass I started a loaf of bread, and then I made a Pumpkin Roll for dessert. Then I started my sauce, for spaghetti and meatballs, and then I started the meatballs. I was in the kitchen for about three hours, and by about 4:30 dinner was ready and just simmering for a while.

I really thought nothing of it until we sat down to dinner. Now Doug had spent the entire afternoon outdoors, so he didn't see the time spent in the kitchen. I guess he thought I ordered out, or something. When we sat down to dinner he raved about the garlic bread, "did you make this bread (like I never bake bread)?" And then he said, "Did you make these meatballs (I have never bought meatballs in 23 years of marriage)?" The compliments went on, but he kept looking at me like he wasn't sure I had really made the dinner. At least that's what I thought.

I can't say he wasn't appreciative because he was obviously enjoying his meal, but I was starting to get my nose a little out of joint. What did he think I was doing all day?

By the time I cut the Pumpkin Roll, I was a little ticked. I even served his piece with a smart comment about how "I was so glad I could finally serve him a decent meal for a change' (an inside joke using words he once "accidentally" spoke to me). He laughed, "ha, ha," but he had no idea he had gotten my dander up.

So I cleaned up the kitchen and stewed for a bit and when all the dishes were done, except for the sauce pot, I spooned the sauce and meatballs into a double freezer bag (because all of my large Tupperware bowls were in use). I turned to put the sauce pot in the sink and heard an awful noise behind me. It was the sauce and meatballs splashing all over the kitchen floor. The bag had fallen over when I turned my back and I lost at least half of that delicious sauce and five or so meatballs. I could have cried (instead I think I said a bad word).

Doug ran to the kitchen and grabbed the camera. "This has to go on the blog," he said. "Oh, no it's not," I said. And then he voluntarily cleaned up the entire mess.





Do I think that the sauce and meatballs spilled because I was having a fit of pride? No. But I do think that I deserved it a little. And I think it's proof that just when you think you've done something worth being a little proud about, you're gonna get knocked back down to earth.



And so, as part of my lesson in pride, I submit to you this picture:






And my lesson learned:

Don't be so full of yourself.

Buy some large Tupperware bowls.



Never let it be said that I share only my successes.


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