Sunday Scribblings: Photograph

The caption for this photograph of my dad might read, " Hey Mary... why is it that when those kids come home for Christmas this d#%@ thunderjug always stops working?"

This picture was captured many years after one taken in the post below. There is a strange curse that has been alive and well at my childhood home that only occurs when the family gathers for a celebration. That must be why I took this funny picture of my dad trying to figure out why the toilet kept running at Thanksgiving. Other times at gatherings a toilet has overflowed. There was also the time the water escaped from the shower at Christmas when RP was home and it flooded down the basement.

The frig Mom owns has this one drawer that for some unknown reason falls out easily. It is also the drawer that holds all the ingredients for holiday entertaining including cheese and dips. As soon as anyone gets close to the kitchen at Christmastime we can hear Mom's sharp words rising above the voices of her favorite soap stars, " Be careful with that drawer if you get out any dip. It falls out easily you know". I seem to always be the one that pulls the drawer out too far. The only problem with that is the process of fixing it. It requires moving a garbage can, a compost bucket,pulling out the frig, avoiding the utensils hung on the wall, and lots of blood, sweat, and teeth gritting.

We have also had kitchen shelves come lose and dump tupperware on people's heads. A few times "decor" on the walls have also fallen on heads during dinner. There is a framed picture in the hall on the way to the bathroom that falls routinely when someone walks by. Mom has figured out she should give up putting real evergreen boughs behind the mirror with the lights in the living room because we spend more time sticking them back up then enjoying them.

The worst disaster I was part of was the day somehow the water didn't go through the coffee basket and into the pot correctly when I made coffee in the morning. It went everywhere else. I was amazed that a water/coffee ground mix could go into the dish towel drawer, flow under the stove, and wind up behind the refrigerator. I think Mom goes into a cold sweat any time I near Mr. Coffee when I am home now.

We appear to be a normal family 90% of the time. It is that 10% that includes all these disasters that keeps the laughter and the memories alive as we gather again at home.

To read other Sunday Scribblings about photograph go here.