Food and Gratitude

I just finished consuming a bowl of some KICK A potato soup that I made. YUM-O-LAH! I'll post that recipe later, because I have to run out the door in a few minutes to get the kids to class. Which reminds me, I need to gather up the stuff I'll be doing while I wait in the parking lot. I could go to Mass, but I don't. No excuses, I just don't. I'm also not going to elaborate on it either. Anyway, yesterday I came home from work, and a 80 mile round trip utterly exhausted, legs aching to hades and back and starving so bad I had what Pioneer Woman calls LBSCBDO. In short, mama was stark-raving-crazy-hungry. The DH was ambivalent about HOW he wanted the chicken cooked, but I knew my first suggestion was not his desired meal. So I went about making it differently (and it was good too). While I was waiting for the meal to finish cooking, I decided that after seeing a recipe in a magazine at work for potato soup, that I wanted to make some for my crew. And if they didn't want any, then I would eat it. They can have the hot dogs that I'm allergic to for their dinners. In any case, I made potato soup last night in preparation for tonight's dinner because I was already on my feet, dead tired, cooking anyway and knew I wouldn't want to cram in a haphazard meal on a Wednesday. It involved a bag of forlorn hash brown potatoes that were in the freezer, onions, chicken broth, and milk. I'll give the instructions later.

In any case, sure enough I was just DONE when I got home from work today. I really need to replace my shoes, all the supports are long past shot. Brooks shoes are not cheap though. So, on my way home, I was just looking forward to stretching out my legs and catnapping in preparation for the length of time I would be in the parking lot at church with one or the other of my spawn. And I did just that today, so I'll be nice and awake when I'm busy clipping coupons or knitting, or something. On my drive, I got to an intersection involving an overpass, and my left turn takes me under that overpass, that almost always has a panhandler. The light turned green as this guy was getting some money from 3 cars ahead of me. It's been pleasant weather, so my windows were down at least halfway. As I drove by the guy (c'mon, that light takes forever and a week, I wasn't missing the green light), dude was COMPLAINING about the amount he was given. "Sev'nty five cent!?!?!?" with such incredulity that it made me complain aloud to no one in particular that he was such an ingrate and how does he know that the person being generous had just that amount to their name and gave HIM their last bit of money. Appearances aren't always what they initially seem, and that's more the rule than the exception in this world. Integrity doesn't mean much to many people, and gratitude surely escapes plenty of the oxygen-sucking masses as well. I can't say I've always been grateful. I've had my share of selfish, greedy and unappreciative moments in my life, and probably more will sneak out of me. I'm human, and I know this other guy is too. But what really torques my last nerve is that someone has the balls enough first of all to stand on a corner and beg for money (because as big as my set is, I can't see myself standing on the corner and sacrificing my dignity that way), THEN get bigger cajones by complaining about the difference between his expectation and the reality of what he was given. I'm glad my last seventy seven cents are in my bank account and inaccessible to me at that moment in time. I might have thrown them at this guy's head.