I solicited pictures of salads for my last blog post. Several of my friends responded. After I posted a picture I liked, my cousin sent a picture of a beautiful salad he had while visiting India. Darn! I liked his picture and I wanted to use it. In 58 years of marriage there must have been other conflicts triggered by salads.
Oh yes! I remember one. Not long after the shock of Everett’s eating my left-over salad without asking, he began talking about the wonderful potato salad his mother made. Wanting to please him, I made a potato salad the next day. He didn’t comment. The next night we invited some friends for dinner. Conversation turned to potato salad. “I haven’t had potato salad for a long time”, Everett said. Shocked, I said, “We had potato salad last night.” “Oh,” he responded, “Was that potato salad?” Being somewhat fragile back then, I think I felt hurt and probably angry, too. Our guest responded, “Everett, I’ll make you a potato salad.”
I learned Everett didn’t like my potato salad because I put pickles and olives in it. When I got this information, I couldn’t wait to see the salad our friend had promised. To my great delight she came with a “loaded” potato salad. Of course, he graciously thanked her and told her how good it was.
We resolved that conflict quickly. Everett always makes the potato salad. By the way, I like them, vinegar and all.