Whistling in the kitchen

Henry’s favorite song right now is “Whistling in the Dark” by They Might Be Giants. He told me he’s come up with LOTS of ways of singing the song, such as:

“Whistling in the dog”

“Whistling in the mango”

“Whistling in my K’nex”

“Whistling in the pillow”

“Whistling in the whistle”

“Whistling in the silly man”

When I was asking him to remind me of some of his versions, he said, “Just say I made up all the ones in the city–EVERYTHING.”

With Dean’s birthday yesterday and Father’s Day today, my first mostly-healthy weekend in two weeks (I still have sniffles and occasional coughs, but I’m MUCH better) was ruined nobly self-sacrificing. But it came out even, because Dean’s weekend was ruined noble, too, since he was asked to speak in church today and spent several hours yesterday preparing his talk. Since he also spoke on Mother’s Day a few years ago, when he gave his talk he quipped that “Mother’s Day talks are to comfort the afflicted, and Father’s Day talks are to afflict the comfortable.” (That was a paraphrase of a quip from General Conference–feel free to remind me who said it. Okay, found it: Elder Holland quoting Harold B. Lee.) But it wasn’t really an afflicting talk. For part of it he went through the Proclamation on the Family and listed all the instructions for fathers there, and he also talked about some of Lehi’s fathering in the Book of Mormon. It was a great talk. (And he wore his suit and looked very handsome.)

This evening we’re doing potluck with my side of the family, so after church today I had a lot of cooking to do, and I was feeling martyry until I remembered I had four able-bodied children who could and should be helping. (Hazel was napping. Plus she’s a bit young to be any help in the kitchen.) So I gathered them–with some effort, since they were buried in books or busy playing–and Mabel helped me make the German Potato Salad, and Ike directed Henry and Rose in making apple crisp. I think Ike was more patient with Rose and Henry than I would have been. He took Foods at junior high this year, and I heard him tell Rose, “Now, you never put vanilla in anything unless it’s going to be cooked, and this will be baked so it’s okay.” Other than our kitchen still being a mess, we were finished in time for me to still get an hour-and-a-half nap. (Except I started writing this blog post that I thought would take five minutes to write but it took lots more than that. Oh, well.)

Happy Father’s Day!

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7 Responses to Whistling in the kitchen

  1. Robert says:

    Durn it, why you gotta always make me laugh and cry? Is it to afflict the comforted or to comfort the afflicted?

  2. Jen says:

    I enjoyed this post. Especially the conference quote and strikethroughs.

  3. Lili says:

    Oops. I tend to put vanilla in my whipped cream…

  4. hthalljr says:

    Great post. Thank you for your yummy noble efforts!

    I couldn’t even get the receptionist of my primary care physician to return my call, so I went to the Instacare and received a very interesting tutorial on what’s going around and how to beat it. I’m into day two of his regimen, with no breakthrough yet, but I’m hopeful. He also gave me a prescription for an a HINT: Neti pot!

  5. hthalljr says:

    . . . for an antibiotic if I’m not improving on day 14.

  6. the MomB says:

    Of course I dearly loved this post. I’m nostalgic anyway about whistling and whistlers and that phrase of Henry’s has added to it–and to my repertoire of such-like phrases.

    I am wondering if the advice to only use vanilla in cooked foods is to bake/boil/etc. off the alcohol. I can’t think of any other reason. It’s endearing to me that Ike would give them such advice, but I actually think his Foods teacher may be cooked.

    I wish I could have heard Dean’s talk.

  7. zstitches says:

    I think yes, the advice is to cook off the alcohol. I remember a time when a friend and I were doing fun experimental cooking with Starbursts. We were pretty much pouring various substances over the candies, and my friend soaked one in vanilla. We each ate half, although it didn’t really taste different. Later Isaac got all freaked out, and told us all about how vanilla is something % alcohol when you eat it straight. We were terrified until my mom explained that it wasn’t that dangerous.

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