My to-do list had one important task today…make pumpkin bread for Meghan. My daughter is away at college and has yet to receive a care package from home. I sent her an envelope with some gift cards and Katherine Hepburn stamps but the side of the envelope was sliced open and all the contents stolen.
Today was my second attempt at sending my girl a little bit of home.
But, where was my salt?
I’d thrown all the ingredients into my mixer but couldn’t find the salt.
Then I remembered. David! My son had killed a squirrel and was tanning the hide to send to a friend in Australia. (They don’t have squirrels there.) I bet he took my salt.
I was furious.
Down into the backyard and into our basement I stomped. Mumbling aloud to myself. Steam pouring out of my ears. Squinting, my eyes adjusted to the dark room as I searched for this salted-carcass.
Sure enough, I found the squirrel buried under a pile of table salt, three salt containers empty on the ground.
When I got back upstairs I barked at my husband, “What is David’s cell phone number?”
“What’s wrong?” He asked.
“Your son used all of my salt on his squirrel hide. I went downstairs into his Frankenstein laboratory and discovered all of my salt is gone. I’m furious, Paul!”
I punched in the numbers Paul gave me and waited. Drats! I got his answering machine.
“David, this is your mother. I’m furious. I am trying to bake this morning and can’t find the salt. So, I went into the basement and see that you’ve used all of my salt on your squirrel skin. Thanks a lot son. I can’t begin to tell you how irritated I am right now. What a selfish thing to do. So, when you get out of school I want you to get your butt in your car and drive over to the grocery store and buy me some salt. Don’t come home without it!”
Paul sat at his desk staring with a quizzical yet somewhat fearful look.
“What!?” I asked. “Do you think I am overreacting!?” I yelled, daring my husband to go a few rounds with me.
“Well, yes. It seems a bit over the top Joanne. It’s just salt.”
“You clearly don’t understand. How would you like it if I used up all of the paper in your printer? How would you work then? Salt is something I need!”
Clearly my husband didn’t understand. So, I made an about face and marched into the kitchen, yelling over my shoulder, “And, it isn’t over the top Paul. This is righteous anger!”
Slamming the kitchen door, I walked heavy-footed back to my pumpkin bread…and discovered my salt.
It had been sitting on my counter all along.
Walking back into my husband’s office, much more lady-like this time, I asked Paul for David’s cell phone number again. Paul watched as I made the second phone call in as many minutes.
“Hello Son, it’s your mother again. I’m sorry about the message I just left you. I found my salt. Boy, this is embarrassing, I shouldn’t have gotten so upset. I hope you can forgive me…and don’t worry about buying any at the store today. Well, uh, I’m really sorry David. I love you.”
Paul tried not to laugh. “Righteous anger, huh?”