There's a huge difference between men and women, in case you didn't already know that. Wes and I are always finding those differences, many times at inopportune moments. The latest was Monday night, just as our guests were arriving for Andrew's party.
I had made punch, a punch that requires orange sherbet to be added at the last moment, so that there are pretty little creamy orange balls of sherbet floating on top of the punch. But I had forgotten to take the sherbet out a few minutes ahead of time to soften, so it was still hard. I struggled with it for a couple of minutes, and then my honey came to my rescue. Would I like him to help? Sure! He can whip anything into shape!
Wes fought with the sherbet and ice cream scoop for a couple of minutes, and then he did what any sane, reasonable man would do with stubborn sherbet: he ripped the paper container apart and plopped that whole blob of creamy goodness right into the punch! And then he opened the other one and did the same thing! Now, instead of beautiful little cream puffs floating in the punch, I had two big quart-size ice-cream-container-shaped plops floating around.
I have to admit, I wasn't happy. He'd ruined my punch. Beth and I had worked so hard to make sure everything looked just right. Now this . . . MAN . . . had plopped two big chunks of sherbet into my punch. But I didn't say anything to him . . . at least not for a while. When I did mention it, I said, "Honey, you know, the idea was to scoop little balls of sherbet into the punch, so it was pretty." And do you know what he said? "It got the job done, didn't it?" Well, yes, it got the sherbet into the punch. But all evening people were asking, "What is THAT?" as they approached the punch bowl. I was embarrassed. Not happy. But I survived (miraculously).
Looking back four days later, it's hilarious!!! It's so amazing what kind of things get under our skin, isn't it? I didn't even think of it again till last night after supper, and when I did, I burst out laughing. Wes was mystified (but not surprised, as I often burst out laughing for no apparent reason). Then I told him again that the punch was supposed to be pretty . . . and you know what he said? "It got the job done, didn't it?" I give up!