Well tonight we are serving up leftovers. Thank you!!!! I have been baking bread the last two days and the fresh focaccia nearly killed me. I am 2 more pounds down and refuse to go back (even though my husband wanted to check out the new frozen yogurt shop down town. Yes, I refused and I was not happy about it either at the time).
Left overs are great really. They can be reheated, recreated and enjoyed again. There are sometimes though that left overs really suck. Like the time my Dad got sick of waiting for Mom to get home from her meeting and decided to punish her by making us the worst dinner ever. I remember canned spinach mixed with left over beef. It was nasty. What made it worse is when Mom finally got home he used us as a guilt tool. "See the sh@# I had to make them for dinner"?!! Yell, Yell, Yell...kids all crying. What he failed to praise her for the 16 inch pizza she had in her hand. She didn't for one moment forget her family sitting at home, or the fact that they needed to eat. She also couldn't turn her back on her job, or the money that it brought in that made it so we could eat pizza that night, and helped to put clothes on our backs. I never understood my mother. Yes this is a confession. She just always seemed so angry. The black circles under her eyes I thought were just of her make. It never occurred to me that she was really stressed and tired. I, admittedly, was a Daddy's girl through and through, and I was his favorite. I would love to say that I dreamt up the last part but he made a habit of letting most everyone know that I was. It made me happy when I was young. I tried the hardest I could to stay that way. I am not sure if it was too keep him happy, to keep him loving me, or to stay out of trouble. What I do know is thank goodness I did. My older sister was notorious for getting in trouble. Another admission... at the time I thought she deserved it. The black eyes she went to school with were not from mascara. I now know all most all the details and I think even if she had been more like me she never would have been better off. She was cursed. She was the mistake, the unexpected one and the one who would be my fathers reminder of what his responsibilities were. My sister, I thought hated me growing up. I know now she loves me. Maybe she was trying to protect me by getting into trouble so I wasn't the focus. Maybe she was just acting out trying to get some attention, or maybe she was living in hell and didn't know how to deal with it. I believe she was in Hell. She ended up turning to the devil and lived with him in a bottle just so she could survive. The devil stole part of her sole. My sister defeated the devil about 10 years ago. She left the bottle behind and began to live. However she is left with scars. Her scars are very deep and I don't believe they will ever fully heal. She, like I, has depression and anxiety problems but on a much larger scale than I. She is one of the bravest people I know. she is a survivor and I don't think she really knows it. I love her. My Mother is also a survivor. I know that all of those knocks she took, she took to protect us. I know now that all of those times she seemed angry and wouldn't let us budge an inch was to keep us safe and hopefully keep the household harmonious. What a tiring job she had. Through it all she had class and grace. Not once would she disgrace our family or family business by letting the world know what went on behind our walls, nor would she disrespect her husband. I am glad the world has moved forward and that children, women, and even men do not need to feel shame for the abuse they receive. I am glad that therapy and medications are no longer taboo. I am also glad that Mom and I can talk about this stuff now and realize what it has done too all of us and start over and move on.
Leftovers, even the really sucky stuff if the right ingredients are added can turn out really good. (applies in life and on the plate) Hey that may make a good bumper sticker.