Thursday, February 26, 2009

Sack Cloth and Ash Wednesday

Yesterday was Ash Wednesday. It's a big holiday for Christians, but us catholics, take it way too far. With incense flying and smudged foreheads we then proceed to starve and have a light fish dinner. Actually, it's a lovely tradition if you have all your ducks, uh, tuna, in a row. I did not. I never seem to be able to keep up with holidays, holy days and all the other days. I had not gone to the store in preparation for Wednesday. I had originally thought it was the perfect time to stay home because we are supposed to fast anyway. Wrong! I went to my nearly empty cupboard,(I gave up hoarding for lent), and all I had was some rice, a single can of tuna and some frozen peas. It did not conjure the image of a delicious yet simple dinner. What I did see was what looked akin to dog food or canned cat food that smelled only slightly better. The two teens were home and I needed to sell this dish as a planned dinner, rather than an "Oh Crap!" mistake. I mixed all my beige ingredients and stared at the lonely green color of the peas. It looked disgusting, even to me, who was starving. I tasted it and made that "I am eating cardboard" face. I scoured the refrigerator for anything to add to make this better.
As I looked at the shelves I spied the meat drawer. I knew that any meat would make this better, especially the bacon I had tucked away. I wanted to try and play this straight so I kept looking. I spotted the bag that held the cheese ration I keep on hand. I grabbed the Asiago and knew I had found my way out of texture without taste. I generously grated enough Asiago cheese over the tuna, rice, pea whatever it was and covered it until all that could be seen was cheese. We had salad and cheese gunge. This would be my first sacrifice in the Lenten season. I called the kids down for dinner and acted as if all were normal. My poker face was pasted on tight. I could not show fear or ambiguity about this meal or I would be double teamed into ordering cheese pizza. I never flinched while they inspected the beige casserole plopped on their plates. I simply began to eat and say nothing. It seemed to work because I looked up through my bangs, in a sneaky mom way, to see they were eating without complaint. We had a quiet dinner and afterward they put their dishes in the dishwasher and went back up to their caves for the rest of the evening.
After dinner I felt like I owed God one and spent some time reflecting on all I am thankful for.
I smiled to myself very quietly, as to not to disturb the teenagers, about how we had experienced the first miracle of the season. While we didn't exactly have a fishes and loaves moment, we had a no complaint dinner moment. This for me only happens on high holy mom holidays. It is in the same realm of "the first day back to school full time" holiday when I run around the house naked singing The Who and Eric Clapton.
Tomorrow, to reward my little band of faithful, I will go to the store and buy actual recognizable food.

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