My Terrible Confession

Alright. I have a TERRIBLE confession to make. But first of all, I have to say that IF you are Mister Man's parents, Bob and Merilee, you need to stop reading right now. Go on.

*humming*

Ahem. I still see you two there hovering over the keys.... *waves hands in air* Go on. Go on now. Because this confession might make you want to disown me! (Not that we're legally related yet, but need I remind you that September IS just around the corner?)

Okay. Let me start by saying that the Mother of Mister Man (AKA M.O.M.M.) makes the BEST pea soup in the world. And I don't say this lightly. I come from the land of pea soup makers extraordinaire. Newfoundland is a serious hot spot when it comes to understanding how to make a bag of peas taste like a bowl full of heavenly love. So my praise of Merilee's soup is heartfelt and well earned. I love the times of year when, after a big ol' family dinner, she makes a vat of pea soup and then freezes individual servings for each of us. This was my pea soup serving from Easter dinner and I'm happy to report that it was brilliant.

There's a REASON I'm happy to report that it was brilliant. You see, a funny thing happened on the way to the simmering soup pot. The Mums raised me to be a fairly low maintenance guest. Paully and I were taught that once you finished your meal when invited somewhere for supper, you must IMMEDIATELY help with the clean-up. So, as always, I was pretty quick out of the gate, making quick work of the dishes. I have learned to never throw away the vegetable water that Merilee keeps (for the soup). And I learned that because one year, in an effort to clean the bowl in which it sat, I threw it out. Ooops.

So THIS year, I looked around the counter, spotted the vegetable water and moved on. Instead, I reached for 2 pots in which the potatoes were mashed. I cleaned one of them and had JUST plopped the other one in the soapy water, when Grayce (sister of Mister Man) came blasting into the kitchen in slow motion. (Okay she wasn't really in slow motion, but that's how I remember it). I also remember her bellowing "Nooooooooo" (imagine that low-pitched and slowed down), as the potato pot hit the water and began to sink. Before my very eyes, she reached in, snatched the pot from the soap bubbles and said "Oh my god - that's the pot that mom uses to make the soup. She likes all the bits of potato stuck to the side."

She gave it a quick rinse and plunked it back on the counter. She had saved me from a rather big faux pas. Moments later, she rushed into the dining room where Mister Man was sitting with some cousins and Aunties. "Oh My God", said Grayce, "Teri just tried to rinse out the potato pot." This declaration was greeted by horrified gasps as everyone acknowledged the unspoken.....

And then Grayce and I spent the rest of the evening peering into the pot, which was now a-boil in stage one of the soup making. What we were trying to discern was whether or not the bubbles on the top were soap bubbles or merely the beginnings of another excellent soup.

I'm happy to report, they were the beginnings of another pot of really excellent soup. Phew. I dodged a bullet on that one. So let's just keep it between us, okay? Not a PEEP to Bob 'n M.O.M.M., okay?