Showing posts with label ice cream. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ice cream. Show all posts

Tuesday, September 1, 2020

Suburban Housewife Retelling of the Parable of the Workers in the Vineyard



The Suburban Housewife Retelling of 

the Parable of the Workers in the Vineyard

from The Book of Exertions 20:1-16

The kingdom of heaven is like a parent of teenagers who got up early in the morning to oversee the task of painting the deck.  It was an odious task, involving nasty-smelling paint and working out in the hot sun all day.  The parent decided she wanted someone to help her.  At first the parent woke her son out of a sound sleep.  He got up and, lo, readily agreed to help paint the deck, after the parent promised him ice cream at the end of the day.  By nine o’clock, the parent inspected the work, and saw that the son had painted one-fourth of the deck.  The parent went inside and found her daughter lounging around watching a movie on her ipod.  And the parent said to her, “You also go outside and help paint the deck.  Ice cream at the end.”  

At noon, the sky clouded over and the parent saw that the deck-painting would have to be speeded up.  The oldest daughter woke up (she had gotten home in the wee hours of the morning, after going swing dancing all night). The parent told her, “You also go outside and help paint the deck.  Ice cream will be involved when you are done.”  At about five o’clock the parent saw that, despite the hard work of her three children, the task was not finished, and rain clouds were fast approaching.  She went inside the house, only to find her niece, who was visiting for a month, sitting on the couch reading a book.  The parent said, “Niece, I’ll give you ice cream when you are finished, if you will go out and help your cousins paint the deck.”  

As evening came, the teens finished painting the deck.  Fortunately for the parent, the rain never materialized (this story does not take place in Pittsburgh). And the parent said to her husband, “Call the teenagers and take us all out for ice cream.  We’ll get in line, beginning with our niece, who started working last, and ending with our son, who started working before 9 AM.”  And they each got one scoop of ice cream in a sugar cone, even the son who started working at the crack of dawn.  Even the parents, whose waistlines showed that they seriously didn’t need ice cream at all, got ice cream.

The son grumbled against his parents, saying that he deserved the banana split, because, lo, he had arisen at dawn and worked all day painting the deck.  But the parent said to him, “Thank you so much, son, for painting the deck.  We really appreciate all your hard work.  We promised you ice cream, and here we all are, getting ice cream.  We chose to reward you not by paying you all an equitable wage, because we know it would have cost us at least $300 to hire someone else to paint the deck for us, but by buying $20 worth of ice cream.  That was our choice.  We’re the parents, and this family isn’t a democracy.  We hope we can all enjoy our ice cream together.”


Alternate ending

Because the teens had all studied economics and understood the principle of marginal rates, none of them complained.  They were also extremely grateful teens who recognized all the gifts their parents had given them over the years: teaching them to tie their shoes, putting them in their car seats, making that birthday cake in the shape of a train, buying them Harry Potter books, paying for a Netflix account, and, most of all, driving them all over God’s blessed creation, dag nab it.  In fact, in gratitude to their parents, these teens were overjoyed to paint the deck and viewed the ice cream as an extra.  Now THAT would be the kingdom of heaven.


About this parable, my husband said:

One person started complaining, and began asking questions about the staff:  Have they done what they actually were supposed to do, for their pay?  Where are the performance evaluations for the staff, and why aren’t they being followed?  That same person who went around and complained about everything went around to everyone, explaining how the leadership is messing everything up because they bollixed up their hiring system and payment system.  And then somebody says, “Why do we have a vineyard anyway? We should have a basketball court!”

***

For the record, the Common Household Son never grumbles against his parents.

***

The original scripture

Matthew 20:1-16

“For the kingdom of heaven is like a landowner who went out early in the morning to hire laborers for his vineyard. 2 After agreeing with the laborers for the usual daily wage, he sent them into his vineyard. 3 When he went out about nine o’clock, he saw others standing idle in the marketplace; 4 and he said to them, ‘You also go into the vineyard, and I will pay you whatever is right.’ So they went. 5 When he went out again about noon and about three o’clock, he did the same. 6 And about five o’clock he went out and found others standing around; and he said to them, ‘Why are you standing here idle all day?’ 7 They said to him, ‘Because no one has hired us.’ He said to them, ‘You also go into the vineyard.’ 8 When evening came, the owner of the vineyard said to his manager, ‘Call the laborers and give them their pay, beginning with the last and then going to the first.’ 9 When those hired about five o’clock came, each of them received the usual daily wage. 10 Now when the first came, they thought they would receive more; but each of them also received the usual daily wage. 11 And when they received it, they grumbled against the landowner, 12 saying, ‘These last worked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the day and the scorching heat.’ 13 But he replied to one of them, ‘Friend, I am doing you no wrong; did you not agree with me for the usual daily wage? 14 Take what belongs to you and go; I choose to give to this last the same as I give to you. 15 Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me? Or are you envious because I am generous?’ 16 So the last will be first, and the first will be last.”



Wednesday, July 4, 2018

The history of potato salad


I didn't have a photo of potato salad.


This is a conversation we had while out enjoying some Independence Day post-dinner ice cream.  Today was a blazing hot July 4th, so some cold ice cream seemed like a good way to end the day.

Earlier in the day, my husband jokingly took me to task for not providing potato salad as part of our Independence Day meal.  (He was only half joking.)  He told Younger Daughter that potato salad is traditional for 4th of July.

We now open our scene at the ice cream place, where we were seated outside, in the hot shade, enjoying permutations of cold chocolate.

Husband: I wonder why it isn’t more crowded here.

Me: It’s because it’s too blazing hot, there’s no potato salad, and everyone is going downtown to see fireworks.

Younger Daughter:  But why is potato salad traditional on the 4th of July?

Husband: The Pilgrims ate potato salad on the 4th of July, to celebrate their independence from Britain.

YD:  Dad.  The Pilgrims.  That was before independence.  And we never have potato salad on 4th of July!

Me (apologetically): I’m sorry you had to grow up in a household where your mother hated mayonnaise and so you never had potato salad…. That’s why Thanksgiving is my favorite American holiday.   It’s not blazing hot, potato salad isn’t a traditional food, and we don’t have to go downtown to see fireworks.

Husband:   The Pilgrims also ate potato salad to celebrate Colonel Sanders’ victory over the British 12th Infantry.

YD (raising her voice with dismay):  What significance does potato salad have?!  It has no significance whatsoever!   It’s the most insignificant piece of calorie that was ever invented!

Me: It’s very significant.  Because it celebrates immigrants.  When the Irish potato famine happened, people from Ireland came to this country in droves, and made potato salad.  Because they had potatoes here.

YD:  But, but, that was after independence.

Husband:   When the Jews left Ireland, they were told to take only their Torah and their potato salad.  There was no time to make potato latkes…. They crossed the Begorrah River…

(There is the sound of an explosion in the distance.)

Me:  There you go.  There’s somebody either backfiring their car, or they ate a lot of beans, or they are exploding fireworks.

YD: Or they are shooting a gun.

Me: Baked beans are also traditional on 4th of July.

YD: That makes some semblance of sense.  Baked beans are brown.  Like, they are from the earth.

Me (banging the picnic table for emphasis): No!  They’re from Boston! The cradle of democracy!  That’s why baked beans are for 4th of July.

YD: I thought that on 4th of July you just eat a whole bunch of brown things.  Like hamburgers are brown, baked beans are brown, hot dogs are brown.

Husband:  It’s a brown food holiday?

YD: Yeah…. There’s no other connection, is there?  I mean, hot dogs are from Germany, so they’re not American.  Hamburgers are from Hamburg, so they’re not American.

Me: Hotdogs and hamburgers are quintessentially American.

YD:  But  - frankfurters -

At this point the Common Household Husband discovered that his chocolate ice cream cone had dripped all over his pants, and we had to go home. 

End of history lesson.



Yours truly, earlier today





Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Is this what retirement is like?

Today: no kids, no husband around.  For the first time in my life, I watched Oprah while eating chocolate ice cream.  It was unsatisfying, and I found myself wanting to do laundry and vacuuming.  What is wrong with me?!