Trampolines and tomatoes

Gosh, golly, gee, it’s already tomorrow and I have to get up early for another marathon choir rehearsal early in the morning. Hubby and I went out to see Little Princess’ band play at a venue which translates to “The Trampoline”, and it was so loud, being a small place with bare cinderblocks for walls, that I ended up wearing my earplugs the whole time (don’t leave home without them) and hence missed quite a bit of the actual music, since the extreme frequencies at both ends were compromised. I do believe, though, that I was the only one to come out of there with her hearing intact.

I treated myself to a new teapot today. I have teapots of various sizes, and I really didn’t need another, but a friend of my daughter’s had given her a couple of flower tea balls and we had never brewed them because we didn’t have the proper vessel for so doing. There is a store at the mall which specializes in exactly that kind of merchandise, beautiful hand-thrown pots of terra cotta, ceramic, metal and glass with matching cups and various kinds of tea. I got a three-cup glass pot (which was very reasonably priced) and six different blooming teas (1 for $3.00, 6 for $10.00, and it gets cheaper the more you buy).

When I got home, I washed out the pot, boiled up some water and made an infusion with one of Little Princess’ teas. It bloomed into something lovely and was good for three or four pots of tea. The flavour is unremarkable, delicate and floral, but it sure is purty.

My sister-in-law reminded me of something when we were having our Thansgiving celebration last weekend, what she calls “the tomato incident”. Years ago, maybe 15 or more, my husband’s older brother and his family borrowed his parents’ van to drive to Prince Edward Island and other points east. They stopped en route both ways to visit us, and it was on one of them (memory fails as to which) that the incident referred to occurred.

I had made an omelet, a rather beautiful omelet, with sliced tomatoes arranged on top, and my niece (the one who is unlucky in love referred to in another recent post) started removing the piece that decorated her portion. I was suffering from PMS, or at least that’s my excuse, and I got kind of snippy about how I’d gone to all the trouble to prepare something nice and here she was picking it apart. I didn’t realize that she hated tomatoes. If I had known, I would never have put them in the eggs.

As it was, emotions were high as a result of my outburst, and I proceeded to walk around the yard, feeling terrible for my iniquity. My brother-in-law caught up with me and said that it was my house, I could do what I wanted, and I responded, yes, it is my house and I should be a better hostess because of it.

I had almost forgotten about that episode. I apologized to my niece, who really was oblivious to the tension in the air, and put it behind me. But my sister-in-law brought it up à propos our anniversary party, saying that that was the first time she had been to our house since “the tomato incident”. Her husband has been here many times, popping in when his business brings him within driving range, but she had not.

It’s funny. I still remember that occurrence with shame. Sure, in retrospect it’s rather humourous, but still, it should never have happened. Oh well, that’s life, eh?

|

<~~~ * ~~~>