Some people say that we are living in the “new normal”. I’m not sure exactly what they mean, and I don’t have the time to ask, nor the desire.
If the “new normal” is what I’ve been experiencing at the rectory for the past few months, I’m all for it. Let me continue. Everyone should be able to live their own normality.
Because we are limited, as far as traveling and shopping or whatever, the Gracious Lady of the Parsonage and I have spent a lot of time at home enjoying our time together.
I must say that my wife and I do not always agree. After all, I’m 6’3″ and she’s only 5’2″. Sometimes I am tempted to say, but I value my life too much, that I have a “higher perspective” than my wife. But you didn’t hear it for me.
We’ve spent almost half a century together, and we’re coming out of it in the most amicable way. Some people might say that we were opposites in many ways. She is on the vegetable side of the table and I am on the fruit side.
There have been some small clashes regarding that. She’s a vegetable connoisseur and I’m, well, let’s just say I’m a fruit addict. The only vegetable I really approve of is carrot cake.
Other than that, we have been able to forge a wonderful life together. I didn’t realize how much it was until all this “lockdown” nonsense we’re in right now.
When I go out, come home and walk into the house, I am overwhelmed by the aroma that is all over the house. The first time this happened I had to stop and try to figure out what was going on. Then it became clear that the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage had spent the whole day cooking or baking.
One day it’s baking, and then the next day it’s cooking and putting everything together, it’s wonderful.
We haven’t eaten in a restaurant for months, instead enjoying home-cooked meals every time. Not sure if I should leave a tip!
I remember one day when I entered the house the aroma was one of my favorites. My wife had been baking cookies all day and the house was filled with that beautiful aroma.
On the table were cookies fresh from the oven, and in the oven was a new batch of cookies. Those cookies on the table smelled so good. Not only that, but they also looked delicious. I’m not sure how delicious it looks, but those cookies came pretty close to that definition.
I went over and stood by the cookies and looked at them, and then I heard, “Don’t you dare touch one of those cookies!”
Looking up, my wife was staring at me, knowing full well my intent to snatch a cookie from me. The problem with cookies on the table is that when you take one, there’s an empty space so you can’t get away with it.
“But darling, they look and smell so good. This must be the best batch of cookies you’ve ever made.”
I’m trying to bargain to get at least one cookie. The problem is that no one, especially me, can negotiate with the Gracious Lady of the Parsonage.
I looked at her, back at the cookies, and then back at her with some of my saddest eyes I could come up with. If she could have created a tear, she would have done it right then.
At that point, I knew I would have to wait to eat a cookie, but it was killing me not only to smell them, but to see them in the same room I was in. Such torture is inhumane.
I went to the living room and sat down to watch television for a bit. Within moments, my wife came in with a cookie and said, “You can have one cookie a day.”
Smiling at him, I accepted the cookie and indulged in my cookie-itis. And it was wonderful. My problem at the time was that it was only one and it was small.
I found out that I was making these cookies for other people and family members. I tried to tell him that I was a member of the family, but he made a face at me and continued to bake the cookies.
How can anyone live on just one cookie a day?
Later, I saw on the table plastic bags full of cookies destined for a friend or family member. An idea fell apart in my head at that moment. When my wife said, “one cookie a day,” what did that really mean?
Looking at all the bags of cookies on that table, I developed my own interpretation and assumed it meant one cookie per day per plastic bag. I hope you don’t notice my plan, but I’ve been enjoying your cookies all day. Remember, I only ate one at a time.
As I was enjoying my last cookie, a scripture verse came to mind. “My little children, let us not love in word or tongue, but in deed and in truth” (1 John 3:18).
My words mean nothing unless they are backed up by what I do. I think I need to confess to my cookie theft to my wife.
