Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Search Party

Youngest Sister asked me earlier today for a recipe I had scribbled nearly twenty years ago in a spiral-bound notebook with index card pages. Tonight when I went to look for my little spiral-bound index card recipe thingy, which usually sits (appropriately, I think) on the cookbook stand in the dining room (behind a prettier cookbook), I found instead Hubby's book on playing darts. I had to ask Hubby where he had moved my recipe book thingy to. For the purposes of this post, it's important to know that this is the only spiral-bound index card notebook in our household. The conversation went like this:

Me: Do you know where my spiral-bound index card recipe thingy is? It was on the cookbook stand.

Hubby: I stuck the cookbooks in the drawer of the hutch.

Me, after rifling through both drawers of the hutch in vain: I don't see it.

Hubby, coming in from the living room: What did you say it looked like?

Me: It's spiral-bound, 4"x6" index cards? With recipes on them?

Hubby: Why do you sound grouchy?

Me: I'm confused as to why it seemed like a good idea to move the cookbooks off the cookbook stand and instead put a book about darts on the cookbook stand.

Hubby: Uh, there wasn't room for everything.

I do not see the point of arguing with that logic. He continues digging through the various drawers and cabinets on the hutch and I sit down in a dining room chair to watch. From one drawer he pulls out a shiny, black 9"x12" folder, which is also full of recipes and he holds it up to me, questioningly.

Me, sighing: It's a 4"x6" spiral-bound index card notebook thingy.

He puts the folder back, but seems to think* my refusal to accept a 9"x12" folder when I'm looking for a 4"x6" spiral-bound index card thingy is pure stubbornness and a moral failing on my part. The fact that the folder is full of entirely different recipes than the index card notebook is, of course, irrelevant.

Next, he finds a packet of individual index cards and holds them up to me. They are all blank.

Hubby: Were you using these?

Me: It's a--

Hubby, proverbial light bulb just this side of literally visible above his head: But this doesn't have a spiral...

He puts them back. I stand up at this point and wander toward the kitchen, where the spiral binding of the actual 4"x6" index card notebook thingy jumps out at me from a shelf in the kitchen. I pull it out and hold it up for Hubby to see.

He says, "Oh that? I could've told you where that was...I didn't know you were looking for that."

*He doesn't say any of this. He doesn't have to. We've been married for twenty-five years and counting. I can not only read his thoughts, I'm pretty sure my testimony as to their content would be admissable in a court of law.


  1. This is my favorite line when Hubby is “helping” me find something.
    “Where were you when you used it last?”
    My standard answer: “If I could remember that I wouldn’t need to be looking for it, now would I?”

  2. I snarfed a little bit of coffee when I got to the bit about your index card thingy being replaced by a book about playing darts. Darts! I will be giggling about that all day, I can assure you.

    "I didn't know you were looking for that!" How could he know? What with so many darts strategies to memorize and all.

  3. Youngest Sister9/13/12, 2:00 PM

    I was afraid this might happen when I made the request. I can just see the two of you having this conversation. It's almost an "It's under here! . . . " sort of conversation. : ) Many thanks for the recipe, though. I had MOST of it on a faxed copy that must have gone to my first apartment with hubby 13 years ago. Somehow (you know, 13 years and 2 more houses later) I lost the last page with final three or four lines of instructions.

  4. Oh, my gersh. This sounds exactly like a conversation in my house. Except it would take a small miracle for the object to actually be found.

  5. It's that asterisk! It says everything about male-female relationships that drive me batty. All my logic and good sense, years of hard-won kitchen and parenting expertise, chalked up to crippling and capricious perfectionism with the shrug of a sturdy shoulder. You paint it so well, and it even makes me smile.

  6. "I could have told you where that was..." ha. This made me laugh. (And, as one going on her 21st year of marriage, I completely agree about reading their thoughts. But, how long till they can read ours??)

  7. Good question Jewels, 9 years in and it seems I have a long way to go!!!

    Why is it they could have told you where it was when you have foud it?!?!

  8. They can always tell you where it was after you've found it. Just like I can always tell him where his whatchamacallit is if he'd just clearly told me what he was looking for. "my new hat"