A good, real, unrestrained, hearty laugh is a sort of glorified internal massage,
Where to begin? I could start with the above picture, the one I shared on Facebook to tease you all about reading this blog today or I could flashback to Thursday evening when I attempted to be a good daughter and how it all went up in smoke, pun intended.
Because it's easier to cook for five instead of two or three, we usually have dinner with my parents. This past Thursday I cooked hot dogs and coneys (white hot dogs) for supper. I heard the conversation in the other room and someone mentioned having french fries. Rather than ask who wanted some, I turned on the oven and put about half the bag on a cookie sheet and put them in to cook. Can you feel where this is going yet?
Well, I finished cooking the hot dogs, called everyone out, and we ate. Since no one knew I put the in, no one missed them when they weren't out.
After dinner, rather than hanging out for awhile we headed home so I could work on my presentation for today's speaking engagement and Mary could finish a project for school. Once home I was in the mood for homemade chocolate chip cookies, so I whipped up a batch. I know how much my parents like these so Ed and Mags took a plate down as soon as they came out of the oven, so they could eat them hot. Wasn't this sweet of me, and Ed to deliver?
Instead of dropping off cookies and going to the store for milk, Ed found himself turning off the oven, opening the windows, and taking out very burnt french fries.
In nothing but love and fun, my daughter said, 'Wait, I need to get a picture first."
What did she need the picture for? To send to me of course, with a note "Did you forget something?" As soon as I saw the picture I shouted, "Oh no!" The dogs jumped and I started shaking my head as I reached for the phone to call my parents and apologize. Mom was laughing as she answered. I apologized, she laughed.
Little did I know that this little blunder of mine triggered my parent's inner creativity and jokester. I love that my dad is working in the shop again and Mom's wood burning and painting is beautiful. Well they put both their talents and joys to work and made a plaque in less than twenty-four hours to gift me.
My understanding is that it was supposed to be for my birthday later this summer, then it was next week. Dad was going to come to our house while I was at work and hang it up in my kitchen, but neither he or Mom could wait. Last night I after we ate and the dishes were done, I joined my parents in the other room to watch the NCIS Dad taped the previous Tuesday.
Dad got up a couple times to go to the garage. I didn't think much of it because he is usually puttering on something. I never expected that something was the beautiful plaque you see below. Not only did Dad cut a wooden circle, Mom wood burned and painted it to match our plate pattern THEN they arranged the burnt french fries on this plate create.
With the french fries carefully placed and glued together, they went to work to apply the Apoxy. Not only do I have a plate of burnt french fries to remind me of my moment, they made a sign to hang from it too.
In case you can't read it, the sign says: "(cover of my new book) - I Love To Cook, by Lisa M Buske, Author"
When Mom and Dad called me out to the kitchen last night I thought something was wrong but when I saw Mom with the camera and Dad attempting to hold back his laughter, I knew something fun and wonderful was coming my way BUT I never expected this. We laughed and laughed. Tears rolled down my cheeks. Mom took pictures. Ed stayed in the other room because he knew they were making the plaque and didn't want me to know he knew.
I can't wait to hang this in my house, it is a reminder.
1) 1st and foremost - turn OFF the oven!
2) Be Thankful - God didn't engulf my parent's oven or home in flames
3) Be Thankful - my parents have a sense of humor and joy has returned
4) Reflective - Heidi would have been in the kitchen laughing the hardest with us.
5) Blessed to have a family with such love
Carry laughter with you wherever you go.
A memory saved forever beneath glass...
Lisa M Buske
P.O. Box 323