I am known far and wide (in my own family) for my potato salad. True. Megan said she didn’t like anyone else’s, but she tried one bite of mine and loves it. Lori agreed. What a recommendation! I argued long with my oldest son to be able to serve it on Mother’ Day, and he only conceded when I promised I’d share my recipe. In full disclosure, I admit everyone over 13 loves it. Don’t ask the littles.
If you carved your own headstone, what would you etch for eternity to see? I think taking inventory on a regular basis constitutes good mental hygiene. Here’s what I hope I am known for:
- smiling with grandchildren
- super good waffles with sleepovers
- friendship with peers
- service for God
- being a camper at heart
- ever a mama bear
- best potato salad known to modern man
Printing this list and taping it to a mirror offers me a daily reminder of what’s important to me. A Calvinist might consider my barometer shallow, but I freely admit that being a human being isn’t easy. Some days I aspire to just this much. No more. I leave perfection to those better than I.
And my potato salad? Perhaps it’s time to spill the proverbial beans, or potatoes, in this case. You can find my secret recipe under any Hellman’s label, but I offer it here for my oldest son, who I am sure never reads my blog. Megan, don’t you dare write it down and give it to him!
- 5 pounds red potatoes, boiled and chopped with skins intact
- one onion, chopped
- six hard-boiled eggs, chopped
- 1 cup chopped celery (which Levi won’t eat so I don’t add)
- 1 cup Hellman’s
- 1 teaspoon sugar
- 2 tablespoons vinegar
- salt and pepper to taste
I encourage you, dear reader. Take stock. Etch your tombstone onto your mirror (use pen and paper. It’s easier.) Be known for what matters most to you. If you aspire to perfection, go for it. If you, like myself, just celebrate surviving some days, don’t beat yourself up. I think every tombstone ought to tell a story. What’s yours?