Blowfish and I went to see the latest Bourne movie.
We had a bit of a conflict about when we were going to do this. His preferred schedule or mine? He won by virtue of falling asleep. I could have shoved him off the sofa to awaken him. But, I thought maybe this was a bonus and he would not fall asleep and snore in the theatre. Again.
On the way there it was clear one of us was crabby.
In fairness I should point out Blowfish is an even tempered fellow who is rarely, if ever, crabby.
I forget now what it was that set my teeth to grinding but I do recall my response,
" As far as I am concerned the Casserole Ladies can have you now."
" The what?"
" The Casserole Ladies"
" Errrrr, not too sure I know what you mean Fishy".
We were stopped at a light so I gave him a looking over. I was trying to decide if he seriously did not know or was just avoiding the subject. He had that scrunchy face which means he was trying to do a quick scan of his data bases to see if he had forgotten something important. It made me laugh!
"The Casserole Ladies are the sweet old singles in the communities who get all spiffed up and
come calling with their best casseroles when a man is suddenly widowed. They will stay and visit and even help with the clearing away and washing up too".
"I do not eat casseroles!"
" Well, in part that is because you are married to a woman who does not make casseroles or own a crockpot. Most women have a 'signature' casserole for which they are known. In fact traveling casseroles spawned an entire industry in disposable bake ware."
"Fishy, let's talk about the movie."
" How are we going to talk about a movie we have yet to see?"
There was a lull in the conversation but not in the traffic. Or the mischief.
" You know Blowfish, once the Casserole Ladies learn you have Italian dna they will be bringing you pasta casseroles. My best advice is to avoid the ones made of thin spaghetti and cream of mushroom soup with a sprinkle of frozen peas."
I failed to get the words out without a giggle or two because Blowfish was looking aghast. He actually shuddered. I cannot imagine what the response would be if I ever once tried to serve that man some soup drenched, soggy pasta concoction. He sort of turned in the car seat and said,
" You said 'ones'. Plural. How many Casserole Ladies are there?'
" Quite a few. Most of the churches have them on their 'bereavement committees' to make sure families are fed in a time of stress and loss. But in the case of you still standing senior dudes? Well, sometimes it is the committee ladies, sometimes the neighbor ladies or likely it will be that friend of yours who bakes you date nut bread because I don't. Whichever group it is, all of the ladies bring hope along with the casseroles".
" Mostly they come from a generation where the women served men. They like that. They like being needed and they like pleasing a man with their cooking talents. They yearn for acceptance. Recognition. Companionship. Most have buried husbands and have lost that sense of importance in the life of another. So they come with their casseroles and then they come again. In hopes they will shine in your eyes."
" Shine?"
He was looking horrified.
I was laughing.
" Honey, they are trying to catch themselves a new man. In your age bracket they dare not wait too long or some other casserole will win the day. There is stiff competition for eligible men of a certain age. One who looks as fit and fine as you, with teeth and hair is a real find. You'll have to keep a sharp eye out for what secret ingredients they put in the brownies."
Once we were pulling into the cinema parking lot the car was again filled with silence as Blowfish processed this new data. As he was opening the door for me he said,
"Fishy, are you saying I am a fit and fine catch of a man?"
Taking his arm I asked,
" Ever had any beenie weenie casserole with concrete cheese on top?"
