August 8, 2011
-
But why is the cheese gone
The other day I stood at the fridge as my dad worked away on his laptop at the kitchen table.
“Dad,” I began in a sharp voice as I referred to a container in the fridge. “What is this? There is macaroni here with no cheese. Why did someone make macaroni with no cheese? Why not use the cheese?”
“I, uh, sent the cheese to another country,” he replied in a monotone voice as he continued working.“You sent the cheese to another country,” I parroted. “And why exactly did you do this?”
“I sent it to Uzbekistan. I have some people there who wanted it. They have a shortage of cheese.”
“I see,” I said. I strolled out of the room and I wrote down the quote that night. I figured it was one of those summer moments around the house I’ll want to remember some day. My dad is notorious for making up answers to questions, and this one was pretty good.Then yesterday as I prepared the pasta for breakfast my mother explained, “Oh yes, there’s no cheese because dad brought it with him on his last trip. Somewhere in Europe.”
“Uzbekistan?” I asked.“Yes, that’s the one.”
And then I thought, ‘Oh. He really did take the cheese to Uzbekistan.’
It seemed to be a once-in-a-lifetime thought to have occur seriously to oneself. Then again, this is how things tend to go around the Mendola house.
Comments (2)
Funny how similarly things go around my house. My mother frequently complains that, even after 33 years of marriage, she still doesn’t know when to believe my father’s explanations. Sometimes the truth is strangely improbable.
*shakes fist in air* Who moved my cheese?!