Small Steps

If you regularly follow this blog, you will know Kalisha and I (and her team) have set a goal of one year for her to be fully equipped and ready to move out and share an apartment with one or two other young women who need housemates, also. (I shared that information in the previous post)
With that in mind, it seems every decision or action, no matter how small, is prefaced with, "This is something I will have to know before I move out." OR "Kalisha, that is probably something you should work on before you can move out."

It is beginning to get tiresome, so we are trying to be aware of the facts without actually stating them. Unless, of course, I get ticked off about something and then toss out, "Well, you won't be able to do that when you live on your own."

This whole 'preparation' thing is probably more about me than it is about Kalisha. If you had asked me how prepared she was, on a scale of 1-10, I think I would have said, "About an 8."
Now that living on her own is a real possibility, I am rethinking that answer. I may revise it to, "Probably a 3."

I never realized how many little things I decide or how many things I give advice about; even insignificant things: "Do you have the boots that are waterproof?"
"Put those pajamas and towel in the hamper." "Let's have spaghetti for supper." "Do you want to stop at the library now or later?" "I think you need a sweatshirt on if you are going to wear that coat."

Two of the areas I worry about are her inability to handle money and her grocery shopping. I will write about those in the next post. (Some humor coming your way)

Today, I have a 'food' story for you.
Several weeks ago, I attended Saturday evening church and stayed for the chili cook-off after service. Kalisha had elected to stay home. As I am eating chili with my cousin, she hands me the phone and says, "It's Kalisha. She said she made sloppy joes for her supper."
I knew my cousin must have heard wrong. When I took the phone, Kalisha said, "I just wanted you to know I made sloppy joes."
ME: "What do you mean?"
K: "I mean I was hungry and made sloppy joes."
ME: "You fried the hamburger?"
K: "Yes."
ME: "On the stove?"
(If she was a kid with smart-a_ _  answers, she would have said 'No, I fried it on the counter.')
K: "Yes."
ME: "Where did you get the hamburger?"
K: "Out of the freezer."
ME: "Did you thaw it first?"
K: "Yep. In the microwave."
ME: "Is the house still standing and the stove off and everything?"
K: "Yes."
ME: "OK. Wow. I am so impressed."
When I came home, I was pleased to see she had not burned the meat, the kitchen was clean and the leftovers were put away.

 

I did ask what she put in the hamburger to make it a 'sloppy joe.' She said she didn't put anything in it; she just put it on a bun and ate it plain.                                                    

I was cracking up. If I had been there, I would have given all kinds of directions, y'know. Obviously, she didn't need my directions.

God is in charge; I need to remember that.