Refrigerator Hash

Not often would mom go out in the evening and leave us kids alone with dad.  For this we were extremely grateful because when she did, dad would ‘cook’.  Now when I say cook I’m being mighty generous with that term. Let’s say dad was a preparer.  He knew how to prepare two things: refrigerator hash and pancakes with slyrup. 

This one particular night I remember watching mom drive away in our red Chevy station wagon, dust a flyin’.  It was late-afternoon and she didn’t say where she was going, but considering the speed with which she went, I figured she wouldn’t be home any time soon. So when it was dinnertime, Dad opened the fridge, pulled out all the leftovers, and put ‘em on the counter.  He got the largest cast-iron pan we had, put it on the burner, and turned it on low. Then he shoveled a wooden spoonful of lard into the pan and let it melt down.  Then one by one he took each leftover out of its container and dumped ‘em into the skillet.  Might be okay if you have leftovers that are similar in taste and texture. But if you have spaghetti mixed with mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans, tater tot casserole, carrots, corn, a little roast beef/extra-extra dry, and lima beans, it’s really not very good. What it is, is nasty!

I didn’t dare say that to dad.  He would have washed my mouth out with soap and then I’d still have to eat that hash. We all sat down to the table which Laurie, my older sister, set. Dad put a couple of pot holders in the middle.  He grabbed the hot cast-iron skillet with a few more pot holders and placed it in the middle of the table like it was the Thanksgiving turkey.  He was all smiles with his brilliant concoction. He scooped nice.......big......helpings on each of our plates and told us to dig in.  I scooched the food around trying to separate it out and just eat one food group at a time, but mostly that didn’t work.  I took small bites and washed it down with  loads of milk.  Dad dug right in with a healthy heaping-full on his fork.  You’d think with that big ol’ smile on his face he’d just invented some gourmet delight, some wonderful invention the rest of the world is just waiting to enjoy. You know …… like slyrup!

Multi-functional Bathroom

For most of my awkward, growing up years there was only one bathroom in our house. It was a little 6’ x 8’ (that might be a generous estimate of the room size) multi-functional bathroom.  You could sit on the pot, organize the dresser, and sort laundry all at the same time.  I could almost reach the sink, but my arms weren’t quite long enough.  The bathroom was not exactly level or elegant, but definitely functional.

Biggest problem with the bathroom, there was only one thing preventing someone from walking in while doing your business, and that was a little, tiny hook-and-eye lock.  Not real comforting.  An insistent tug could pull it right out of the wall, and as I remember, that happened a couple of times. 

The bathroom looked and felt like an afterthought; an add-on that could fall off any moment. The floor was springy.  Could be because it really wasn’t sitting on a foundation, just a few posts.  The bathroom was also, let’s say ….. moist. With the constant pile of dirty laundry and six people showering at multiple times during the week, it never completely dried out. 

Although the lock was a disconcerting problem, at times making it difficult to relax and go, the thing I hated most about our bathroom was the shower.  It was a DIY project for sure. You know the baseboard that you step over to get in, the one that holds the water in so it doesn’t flow all over the floor, every other one I’ve ever seen is made out of some kind of porcelain or plastic.  Ours was wood.  Warped, rotting, water-logged wood. The walls were one big gun-metal grey shell. Try as I might I couldn’t keep from leaning up against that cold shell with my bare behind.  I couldn’t help it; there were no shelves, so the shampoo and cream rinse were on the floor. When I’d stand back up straight the metal would make a loud popping sound that always scared the bejeebies out of me.  The shower-head was a yard sale find, and not a very good one I might add. The water pressure was hard, the shower curtain moldy and stained. It was just plain nasty.

But you gotta shower, right, and although I hated the shower itself, I loved being under water so hot I could barely stand it. So, one day I was getting ready to take a shower and I waited until everyone was gone, especially dad. I had to wait until he was gone ‘cause he would stand outside and watch the meter go ‘round. Then come back in and when I came out of the bathroom I’d get a 20 minute lecture on how much money I just wasted and the proper use of the shower which according to dad was:

ü  Get in

ü  Rinse off

ü  Turn water off

ü  Shampoo up

ü  Rinse

ü  Turn water off

ü  Apply condintioner and soap

ü  Rinse off

ü  Get out

Dad would scold, “You can get everything you need to get done in five minutes.”  

Just to defy him, I got in and took a luxuriously long, steaming hot shower without ever once turning the water off.  It felt amazingly good to let the water pour over my body uninterrupted.   I’ll bet I was in there for at least thirty minutes. Scandalous! Once I saw that I was a perfect pink from the hot water, I finally shut it off and opened the curtain.  I grabbed the towel I’d set on the dresser and was ready to step out when I looked down to see where I was stepping.  OMG!  Right there next to the rotting, nasty baseboard were two tiny, gangly, brown mushrooms.  Where the hell did they come from? One was a good 3” high and its friend was 2”. I got mushrooms in my bathroom!  What the hell!  Seriously?  

I am living on a farm where we grow mushrooms in our bathroom. Hey, wouldn’t want to be like all the other people who have just a normal everyday bathroom. Oh no! On our farm we have a moist, laundry ridden, squishy floor walkin’, too small, cramped, ugly, my brothers are gonna walk in on me anytime, bathroom.

I dressed, got a paper towel, picked those little suckers, and threw them in the garbage. I thought, someday life won't be so awkward. Some day.