Stream of consciousness from fantastic pesto to a trip down memory lane

At least I thought I made fantastic pesto.  Fresh basil, a little parsley, a little salt, garlic, a little pepper, a little cheese, swirl it up, add a little olive oil… taste, taste, taste… hmmm, a little salty but it will be fine on the pasta with all the veggies.  Cook pasta, blanch asparagus, sautee ‘shrooms, done done done…. throw it together, add on the pesto… oh my god.  It got saltier.  How does that happen?  I think it was the cheese.

So what did we do? We picked out the veggies and then had toast.  Yes, that’s right.  toast.  Someone needs to go the grocery store.  That would be me.  In the division of labor at our house, I do the groceries, except for the random occassional needing of one item.   I find some chores horrible, some less horrible, and some I don’t mind.  I don’t mind cooking but I hate the idea of mowing our lawn (front and back!); I don’t like cleaning, but I’d rather vacuum than do the dishes each night.  I don’t even want to consider doing anything with a weed wacker in the back yard where it gets a little hairy by the creek, but the grocery shopping doesn’t bother me.

This has made me think of my mom.  She did all the chores in the house, my dad the chores outside the house. Except for some gardening. Mom loves gardening.  She was a new mom in the second half of the 70’s with 2 little girls.  She stayed home with us until we went to school, and then was there for us when we did go to school but came home at 3.  I asked her about it last time we were together and she said she wouldn’t have had it any other way.  They didn’t have tons of money, but my dad worked and it paid enough that if they watched their funds she could stay home with us.  And she did.  I have a lot of great memories as a kid, playing with mom or just being out with her.  She’d let me help in the kitchen, using ‘help’ pretty loosely here. I think that’s my word, not hers, any way.  She’d do puzzles and take us to the park.  I remember coming home after school and we’d sit at the kitchen table and talk about the day for a little bit, have a snack, and then off to do homework.

sigh.  those were the days

sigh. those were the days

I have good memories of my dad too, but they are fewer from that age.  I think that’s just a by-product of him being at work all day and coming home in the evenings, at 6 on the dot.  But we all spent a lot of time as a family on the weekends.  Until I became a teenager and it wasn’t cool.  But even then, we’d still do family outings.  My parents knew it was important that we spent time together as a family.  They must have seen my sister and I growing up, too fast I’m sure, and wanting to spend time, and instill as much goodness and make as many memories as possible.  All of this makes me think of my new family.  Husband (10 years!) and the bundle (7 months!).  Time goes so quick doesn’t it.  All we have are choices.  Each choice leads us to something new.  It’s exciting isn’t it?


One response to “Stream of consciousness from fantastic pesto to a trip down memory lane

  1. I grew up in the same time frame, but my mom did have to work. Even then, she still made sure she dropped everything and played with us. We had a pool which was off limits during the weekdays, we weren’t even allowed to ASK to go swimming, but she would bend her own rules and throw our swimsuits at us telling us we had ten minutes to be ready for a little evening swim. I cherish those memories.

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