Last night I a dream that featured roasted parsnips. (I know.) I was thinking in the dream, should I add some roasted garlic too, maybe mash ’em up? Do we have any fresh rosemary? I haven’t made parsnips in a while, maybe a year. I don’t have any in my fridge, begging to be cooked and served to my reluctant family. (I’m the only one who really likes ’em.) I haven’t even considered buying them recently. Nevertheless, there it is. I do like to throw them in with some potatoes, yams, maybe a turnip and some carrots – a riot of roasted root vegetables. ‘Tis the season.
* * *
There’s some kind of stomach virus working its way through the youngest members of my family. Today, I was five stops into my Metro commute when my cell phone buzzed. I recognized the number as my kids’ middle school and knew it must be The Boss. He tried to tell us this morning that he didn’t feel good and we were all, take a Tufferin and go to school. He lasted 30 minutes. It’s a mild bug, but still, most kids don’t fake throwing up in the school nurse’s office. I got off the train, hopped on one heading back out, and retrieved my son from school. As we got into the car, I thanked him for trying and even invited him to say “I told you so” if he wanted to. His reply? “That’s okay. I’m not that kind of person.”
* * *
All the chatter in the comments of my recent post about how I feel pulled back to the area where I grew up and might even consider being buried there has me wondering. Do YOU know where you want your body to lay for all eternity? Do you already own a burial plot? (I hear you can get a good deal one one now – people are selling them because the need the cash.) Have you shared your wishes with your family members, or written them down somewhere? Do you care if it’s close to other relatives, or convenient so that your survivors can come “visit” you, place flowers on your grave?
I feel like perhaps it would be a good thing to do, to figure this out, discuss it with Soup Husband Curt. It would be helpful info for my survivors to have handy in the event I meet an untimely demise. Or a timely one, but the timely demise, presumably, won’t happen for at least another 40 years…
* * *
So then, here I sit with a sorta-sick 11-year-old. Every day is a gift, but today, it seems I’ve been given the gift of some unplanned time. I have some laundry to do, I could declutterfy my dining room table (I think there’s a table under all that stuff), prepare a couple of blog posts for later this week… maybe bake some bread, or make some chicken soup? Go buy some parsnips, perhaps?
Tell me what you would do with an unplanned day. Or with parsnips. Or about your plans for your body when the inevitable happens. Or about a time when you DID say “I told you so!” Or, in the spirit of this post, tell me something completely random.
Go ahead; I’m listening.