Tolerance

As I sit and enjoy a nice red (any red will do) I’m overhearing a conversation. The table also regulars and today the debate has something to do with katsup or no katsup. In all honesty, that’s all I know…. But it reminds me of a debate long had between my Mom and Daddio.

My Mom was a pretty good cook. Coming from the boy who ate nothing but peanut butter and jelly sandwiches till I was 11, that’s saying something. Anyway she made her homemade stew. Beef, vegetables and all that. Nothing out of a can. All hand cut and seasoned to perfection. Cooked on the stove for hours. I admit the house always smelled better afterward. But I seldom ate it.

Dad always knew it needed katsup. No matter what Mom tried, out came the katsup. I know it ticked her off but she tolerated dads addition. Just needed more tomato I guess

Her strength and tolerance was and is something I will never possess. Not even on my best day. Love you Mom!

The moral of the story? Accept that what you do might be perfect but others still need to adjust. It’s never a sign of failure.