I think the more traditional question when a man arrived home from work was, "So, what's for dinner honey?" But, being smooth like I am and not wanting to imply that I am a sexist pig who expects his wife to cook for him every night, I ask a more subtle question like, "So, what's the plan for the evening?" That generally generates a conversation about our dinner menu or dining plans for the evening, satisfying both my interest in food and the need to have a plan (I'm an engineer).
But I must admit the more carnal part of me hopes for a response something like, "I''m sending the children away for the night, we're going to the best restaurant, and I've shopped for new lingerie." Now that's a plan! But not wanting to be picky, I would be fine with leftovers and old lingerie.
Maybe I am a sexist pig, but at least I'm not a picky sexist pig.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
We were having a family conversation about what to do for dinner the other night. Marti said there were some "Shell" casserole leftovers, at which point all of our (at home) children rolled their eyes and turned up their noses. (Matthew would probably love some Shell casserole left-overs about now.) At that point Marti said, "Dad will eat it for breakfast Saturday, he eats all kinds of weird things for breakfast." And yes I did it eat for breakfast, but it made me think about my own dad. I remember my dad getting a slice of bread and throwing a couple pieces of ham on it, folding it over and heading out the door on his way to work (this recollection must have been before my teen-age years).
So maybe I got my breakfast habits from my dad, but I learned so many other things from him as well. I learned to love my wife and put her on a pedestal. I learned from his example to do my church calling, even when I may be tired and there are so many other things to do. He was often off to work before the sun came up and not home until it was dark. Even then I remember going on trips with him in the pick-up or truck to either look at or pick-up equipment (often I got to miss school to go on these trips). I never recall my dad doing or saying anything mean or judgemental. A few weeks ago the girls had a daddy-daughter activity night and someone brought ropes to teach people how to rope a steer. Of course I learned this long ago roping with my dad at the fairgrounds (and yes I can still throw a pretty good loop). Just about every picture I see of him he has a big smile on his face, and I know some of those times weren't so easy. I still have a lot to learn.
I love my Dad!