Talent is a peculiar thing. You either have it or you don’t. Sometimes you have degrees of it. There is one thing I excel at, and that is writing. Nailed that one. There are a lot of other things I am pretty good at but don’t really shine. And there are some things I cannot do to save my soul.
Take cooking for instance. I love to cook, and I’m pretty good at it too. I’ve even managed to put 40 pounds on Captain since we got married. That brought him out of the “severely under-weight” BMI range and into borderline low-normal.
I was pretty proud of myself the day I turned out three loaves of homemade bread from scratch. No frozen bread dough or bread machine mix. Scratch. That takes talent, right?
So why can’t I manage to make Rice Krispie bars? You tell me, and we might both know. This is the first baking project any beginner tries, but I can’t do it after 30 years of trying. They either turn out like mortar bricks or they are soup. I follow the recipe down to the letter with the same bad result every time. So I gave up on those.
Caramel corn is another one I have never mastered. Why should I, really, when Carroll’s Corn serves the best caramel corn in town? The one time I tried making caramel corn, the dog wouldn’t even eat it. What kind of rotten review is that? I’ve seen the things our dog eats, and it makes my caramel corn look like ambrosia.
Pre-packaged or single-serving grocery products cannot be found in our house. We buy the basics and make do. Or I try to copy the box mixes for this or that. I think I finally got the sour cream and cheddar potato thing down pat thanks to a crock pot recipe from Captain’s mom. Who needs to buy the Rice-A-Roni Spanish rice mix when you can make Minute Rice and dump some salsa in it? Same outcome…major savings. I guess saving money is a talent as well, in its way.
This is why Captain does the grocery shopping now. All I was allowed to do for many years was cut the coupons and write the list. He started doing the shopping simply because going on a Saturday afternoon with two kids was beyond my capabilities. He could go at night after chores and be done in less time than it took me to get the kids out of their car seats.
Plus, he’s better at it than I am. He does the whole coupon thing, store flyer, easy-saver-store-card, and comparison shopping of price-per-units. I don’t have that kind of time or patience. Plus, while he’s at the store doing the grocery thing, I’m at home with my feet up reading a good book. Getting the better end of the deal is the greatest talent of all, and I win!
If I wasn’t adopted, I might have inherited my mother’s talent for sewing and mending. Granted, those things can be learned, but there has to be an innate aptitude involved that I’m missing. When Young Mann was smaller and would ruin the knees in his jeans faster than I could ruin a batch of caramel corn, my mom would take those jeans and patch them with the coolest things…a football on one knee and a baseball bat and ball on the other. He was the envy of every kid in his grade. I can’t even manage those iron-on patches.
The Princess’ talent is fashion. I’m not sure where she got that because I know it wasn’t from me. I do the basic colors of black, brown, or blue pants or skirts and toss on a colorful sweater, and I’m good to go. Or I thought I was until one day The Princess gave me a critical up-and-down look and said, “You call that an outfit?” Let's see...bra, underwear, shirt, pants, hoisery, shoes. Yep, that's an outfit. Did I mention she was only 10 years old at the time?
And she likes to shop, which is another throwback mutation that did not come from me. I’m thinking my mother-in-law—who is the smartest dresser I know—passed those talents on to The Princess. They love to shop. I hate it. When I shop, I’m on a mission. I know what I want and what I’m willing to pay for it. If I don’t find it on my first quick pass through the store, I leave and try another day. Those two will browse for hours, try on 57 different combinations of outfits, and they might come home with two that they liked, that fit, and they could afford. That’s not talent; that’s a disease.
Young Man is a throwback mutation as well. I’m pretty sure he was the Pied Piper in another lifetime. Little kids will follow him around like he’s the answer to everything they’ve dreamed of. It’s amazing. He can distract a cranky toddler until there is nothing but smiles. Older folks love him too because he is a rapt listener to all those “In my day” stories that get told at large family reunions. Listening is a talent I guess we could all work on more.
The three things we are supposed to contribute to this world are our time, talents, and treasures. I may not have a lot of talents, but my family is my biggest treasure of all time.
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