I’ve been writing another RST post that’s almost good to go, but it centers around the notion of being trapped. If you’re reading this, you officially made it to 2021 and should be greeted by optimism and anticipation of new beginnings, not by ‘get me the HELL out of here’.
When I was a bachelor, the first thing I ate in my new abodes – apartments, then a house – was Cream of Wheat – a nice, big, hot bowl made with milk and a large knob of butter and several spoonfuls of sugar on top. It was always in the same bowl – dusty pink on the outside, white on the inside. I’d draw the spoon around the top outer edge where it was cooling, bring it to my mouth, and savor the sweet, buttery taste. It’s actually been years since I’ve had a bowl, but I can taste it even as I’m writing about it. As fond as the memories are, I much prefer seeing my bachelorhood behind me.
When Ms. Boss and I bought our first house together, she had a bit of a different idea. The day after our first night in the house was Thanksgiving, actually our first one as a married couple. Our bed was set up in the first floor living room because we were still working on our room on the second floor. I awoke after a day of sleeping – I was working midnights at the time – to find Ms. Boss cooking every single recipe from that years Better Homes and Gardens Thanksgiving article. After shaking the cobwebs, I started helping. The result was the most amazing meal I’ve had for any holiday. So magical was the meal that Brussels sprouts went straight from something I would never ever eat, to my favorite vegetable. Even though our crew is mostly vegetarian or vegan these days, recipes from that meal remain staples in the Boss household almost twenty years later. Sometimes, the things you start at the very beginning endure.
I remember very our first home cooked meal as a couple very fondly. We arrived at the beach house where we spent our honeymoon after a long day of driving. The first bags up the stairs were the groceries. Ground beef was quickly placed on the skillet before I went downstairs to grab more bags. By the time I returned, the ground beef was super brown and crispy. I opened the jar of pasta sauce, stirred it into the beef, and hoped for the best. What I got was amazing. It turns out, I discovered, that browning the meat actually means browning the meat, not making it into a gray mass. Sometimes, you just have to be patient. I wished I would have learned that lesson fully back then. To be honest, I’m still learning that lesson now.
Lest you think all I do is eat, I have other stories of beginnings. In the earlier days of our marriage, Ms. Boss and I went to church every week. At one point, it was a three-hour ordeal getting all six of us washed, clothed, packed, and out the door. As we drove down the driveway, Ms. Boss would turn towards me and straighten my collar and fix my tie. After doing the lion’s share of the work to get the kids ready, we weren’t truly ready to begin our journey until she felt she took a moment to take care of me as well. While we don’t get dressed up as often as we once did and the children are able to take care of themselves these days, I still look forward to having her putting the finishing touches on us starting our evening together.
How did I begin 2021? In bed. I haven’t been sleeping well lately and had been up since before 5. I woke up when one of my daughters yelled ‘Happy New Year’, heard the farm down the street shoot their guns as they do every year, then rolled back over and went to sleep. I woke this morning at 5:30, sat in meditation, journaled, solved some chess puzzles, then started working on a house project. All in all, I thought it was appropriate for where I’m at in my life at the moment.