Remember Your Roots and Keep Them Colored

Why does my family make me cook?

By Trena Eiden
Posted 1/3/25

Since we were already helping Lunny move over Christmas, we stayed a few extra days, forcing me to cook, which is always against my will. I don’t like to cook at other people’s houses and …

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Remember Your Roots and Keep Them Colored

Why does my family make me cook?

Posted

Since we were already helping Lunny move over Christmas, we stayed a few extra days, forcing me to cook, which is always against my will. I don’t like to cook at other people’s houses and those last four words aren’t necessary. Lunny’s place is no exception, but she brings the degree of difficulty up a notch with me doing a somersault in the pike position because she doesn’t cook or bake much. Meal prep and grocery buying sounds like a bad game of Go Fish.  

Me: Do you have garlic powder? 

Lunny: No 

Me: Do you have Lawry’s Seasoned Salt? 

Lunny: No 

Me: Do you have dry ranch dressing? 

Lunny: No 

Me: Do you have Worcestershire sauce? 

Lunny: No 

Me: Do you have vanilla? 

Lunny: Uh, hmmm 

Me: Do you have sugar, tell me you have sugar. 

Lunny: Uh 

Me: Do you have a mixer? 

Lunny: A mixer? 

Me: Yes, you know, a beater, like an egg beater or better, an electric one, you know, a mixer. 

Lunny: No 

At other people’s houses there’s always the added benefit of not knowing where anything is at and searching through drawers and cupboards. Lunny was gone to work, so I did a lot of searching, then gave up, and used a knife to zest an orange. In the back of my mind, I thought I remembered doing that the last time we were with her, and I didn’t like it very much. When she got home, I asked her if she had a zester? She said, “Ummm, oh ya, you bought it for me last time you were here when you had to use a knife to zest an orange and told me you didn’t like it very much.” I said, “Well, great, where is it?” She frowned and looked toward the floor full of boxes, “It’s packed in one of those.” Good thing I’d found a knife.  

We’d brought Lunny’s storage from Florida to our house when she moved to Reno. She was building the house in Verdi then, but didn’t have any place to put all her paraphernalia, and unfortunately, all the storage units in her area were full. We stored everything for her and planned to bring the boxes, bundles, parcels and packages to her when the house was built, but flew in this trip.  

With what little tools Lunny had, Gar got into the Go Fish game while fixing a lamp and putting beds together.  

Gar: Do you have a crescent wrench? 

Lunny: Yes, in my Wyoming storage at your house. 

Gar: Do you have wire cutters?  

Lunny: No 

Gar: Do you have channel locks?  

Lunny: Oh no. 

Gar: Do you have pliers?  

Lunny: Yes, with the crescent wrench at your place.  

All our married life we’ve had an electric drill because I use it often for crafting. A couple of months before Christmas, my drill had burned up, so knowing I would be creating homemade gifts, the first time I was in a hardware store I’d searched diligently for a new one. I’ll stop here to ask, “Remember in the movie, Crocodile Dundee, when Dundee and his girlfriend, Sue, came out of the movie theatre? The thugs came up to them, showing a knife and demanding Dundee’s wallet. Nervously, Sue said, “Give it to them.” Dundee asked, “Why?” She said, “Because they have a knife.” Dundee pulled a huge pig sticker of a blade out of its leg scabbard and snickered, “That’s not a knife. This is a knife.”  

At the hardware store, a young man saw me scanning the power tool aisle and asked if he could assist? I was holding a small drill in my hand, and told him I needed one, but wanted a good one. Seeing the one I had, he raised his eyebrows, reached around me for a different, bigger one, nodded to mine, then his, and calmly stated, “That’s not a drill. This is a drill.”  

Back at Lunny’s house I said to Gar, “You’re getting Cool Whip in your fruit salad instead of whipping cream because there’s not a beater to be had inside these walls. Gar grinned, “Well, she can’t buy mountain climbing gear, houses AND egg beaters. There’s got to be priorities set and concessions made.” After dinner, I realized, not for the first time, that I’m so dumb. Gar had brought my new drill in his suitcase, and used the screwdriver on it several times. I could have rigged something clever on the drill and used it to beat the cream for the salad. I gotta up my game if I’m gonna hang with people who prioritize purchasing hiking boots over kitchen tools.  

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