“Have you read any good books lately?” Lupita asked, bringing me back to the present discussion.
I said, “Haven’t had much time to read lately. But I did discover an old copy of a Green Book underneath my grandmother’s stove.”
The ensuingooohs andaaahs led to me sharing how Gabriella and I had talked about the foods people carry from one life to the next, then a spontaneous sharing of favorite recipes. Shrimp étouffée, triple-chocolate torte, and Texas-style brisket.
“We should have a potluck,” Sonia suggested.
“Oh no. I don’t do potlucks,” Althea said with a shake of her head.
“No?” Eileen pressed.
“Me, either,” I seconded.
With a perplexed look, she asked me, “Why not?”
“Working at a school, there was always somebody bringing food into the teachers’ lounge. And people would come right in after touching their students’ heads and tying their shoes, and put their hands right in a bag of chips. So unless I get first dibs, I don’t eat food that other people have picked over.”
Eileen waved away my concerns. “That’s an easy fix; we’ll all be sure to wash our hands.”
Althea contested, “No, ma’am. I love y’all, but with cats and dogs and hoarding and different levels of cleanliness standards in different people’s homes…I don’t. I can’t.”
Valeria added, “I ended up in the hospital one evening after a spread at work.”
Eileen scoffed. “Are y’all serious? What kind of Southernladies are we if we can’t have a potluck now and then?”
“What if we make a meal together?” Lupita suggested. “At somebody’s house. Everyone can participate, and we’ll all know that we all washed our pots, pans, and hands—”
“And nobody’s cat licked the bowl,” Althea said.
“Sounds good to me,” I said.
“Fine. A do-it-together potluck,” Eileen agreed. “When?”
“Some time before we all get busy preparing for the Fourth, or Labor Day,” Christine warned.
Heads nodded.
“I know just the person to guide us through our meal prep,” I said. “My housemate, Gabriella.”
Eileen exclaimed, “Oh! She made the breakfast bacon nachos at the county cook-off?”
“Sure did.” I beamed with pride. “She’s an excellent teacher. If we bring her a few recipes, she’ll add her magic to them and we’ll have ourselves the best one-cook potluck in the county.”
“Sounds good to me,” Sonia agreed.
“No animals at your place?” Althea confirmed.
“No. But there is a ten-year-old boy there.” I laughed.
They all laughed, knowing that kids can be the germiest, which led to another round of sharing stories about the extravagant messes our children made while growing up. Feeling right at home with these seasoned women, I threw in my story about the time Eric Jr. and Terri emptied an entire bag of sugar all over my kitchen.
Before long, the closing time for both the LEGO club and Chapter Chatters came upon us. We tabled the date and time for the cook-and-share night until I could talk to Gabriella, but everyone was still excited.
I gathered Elijah and decided I’d better start pricing ovens,given that I’d all but volunteered my home for a cooking escapade. Well, if I didn’t have enough money to buy a stove by the end of the summer, we could still cook at someone else’s house, I reasoned. I’d still bring Gabriella, assuming she’d agree to teach.What was I thinking?
I guess I’d been thinking of how things used to be. I’d get a bright idea and then just do it. Never thought twice about how much money it cost when I was married. But I had to slow down now. Count my pennies.
This is my new life.
