This weekend, we celebrated Christmas with my own momma's family. She has two brothers and one sister. They each have two children. Each of those children has a significant other except for one. Each of those children also has two children except for two of them who have three children each and one who has four children. Oh for heaven's sake. What am I doing here? Writing a math problem?! Well, math was my friend this weekend. But, the point is when we all get together, we have a lot of people. And if each family brings two dishes to our Christmas potluck, we have a lot of food.
We came; we ate; we played a wild game of Dirty Santa (that story is coming tomorrow); we visited; and then it was time to go. As with most family events, we all pitched in to help clean up. I decided to conquer the dessert table. My own chocolate chip pie was long gone because I'm just that good of a cook. That and Daughter 1 ate about a third of it by herself. Some things, like the white pretzels, came in lidded containers. I snapped those suckers on. Done. Other things, however, were barely touched. Not because it wasn't good, but because we had so much food because we had so many people there.
I then turned to my cousin's man. "Y'all want these?" I asked. He said no because the kids weren't going to be home this week. I thought this was kind of weird, because when my kids are home, I have to hide the goodies. I imagine if they were gone for a week, I could leave a pan of brownies right out in the open and not worry about whether I was going to get one or not. But whatevs ...
I, however, didn't want the brownies. I had plates (plural) full of goodies from my mother-in-law. I was going to be baking another chocolate chip pie. We still had another Christmas celebration to get through--we would have plenty of treats. Not only did I not want the brownies with the "internet icing;" I didn't need the brownies with the "internet icing."
So, I tossed the brownies and went to the bathroom.
That was my big mistake. (Just to be clear, tossing the brownies was a mistake. Not the bathroom. Believe you me: Going to the bathroom was not a mistake.)
"When did this happen?" I heard my aunt Kay shriek.
"Why would someone toss the brownies?" I heard my aunt Kay holler.
"Who did this?" I heard my aunt Kay growl. I had to come out of the bathroom.
Quickly, I confessed. I had tossed the brownies. "But it's okay," I rationalized, "they were my mom's brownies, and she's got the sugars, so she really shouldn't be eating the brownies with the 'internet icing.'"
My aunt Kay fumed. Her nostrils flared. "You. I could spank you," she hissed, "Obviously, you have not lived through the Great Depression."
I stood beside my aunt Kay, who had the pan of brownies in her hands, and I did some math. She was just twenty years older than I. She was born in 1950. The Great Depression ended around 1941, nine year before my aunt Kay was born.
"Umm..." I said to my aunt Kay, "Neither did you."
"Yeah, well," my aunt Kay said back to me, "You don't throw away brownies."
It's true that she didn't live through the Great Depression. But she did live through the 60s. My own momma lived through both. Maybe I should have had a brownie. Or six.
Very well, then. Lesson learned. For the sake of history--or whatever--you don't toss brownies.
