Chicken soup for the eye II

Another episode of Chicken Soup for the Eye.

Dad was over yesterday. He is a former systems analyst who lost his career when Y2K came and went like a kitten instead of the lion the fearmongers predicted. So he is currently in the process of changing careers, which means a couple of years of technical school. I have mentioned before how he is the eternal batchelor. Sometimes he stops by briefly to hang out, especially now that it is summer break. He happened to stop over right after I returned for the grocery store, so I think that, putting the billions of thises and thats necessary to keep our huge family in operation away, he grew terribly bored. I don't blame him. So was I. He wanted to leave, but I used the age old motivater to get him to stay. I lured him with the promise of a home cooked meal.

The Fellers were still napping, Eighty-Eight Fingers was clanking and clattering away in the living room, possibly knocking down walls, wouldn't surprise me. It was the perfect time to begin cooking, especially a meal this elaborate.

I had German Lasagna planned, modified of course to be a little lower fat and red meat free (we have picky health nuts here, what can I say?). He had had leftovers of this once and was seriously motivated to consume this masterpiece fresh. So he not only stayed; he and I made dinner together. I miss that, now that I am an adult woman with a house filled to bursting. I miss spending time with my friend, my dad. We talked of the economy. I boiled the noodles. He bashed the administration, explained the latest scandals while he browned the turkey sausage. I prepared the sauce and cheese filling. In and out of the kitchen I went, as the conversation ebbed and flowed. The Fellers awoke, needed pants changed and directed to their potty chairs. As the masterpiece progressed, clouds of hearty sausage and sourkraut scent filled the air. The kitchen, somewhat cool in the mild weather we'd been experienceing, heated up, became cozy, comfortable, like our companionship.

As the layers of the lasagna were laid down, sauce and noodles and cheese, I realized that knowing dad as I do, the fact that he is a know-it-all (Hi Dad, love you!), instructing me in proper sausage browning and cutting, directing me on child rearing, doesn't bother me like it should. In fact it is on ene of the things I love about him. To this day whenever I have a problem, questions or doubts, he is the first person after my husband I go to for advice or just a sympathetic ear. I approach his advice like a recipe. I add the esential ingredients, the best advise and eliminate what doesn't work for me. His advice never bothered me, his telling me what to do. I take it with a grain of salt. Like a recipe, it is an essential ingredient in my life and the flavor would just not be right without it. Something important would be missing. Like using garlic powder in place of garlic cloves.