Deep fried chaos

Amidst all the political chaos of the state and the effects that has on my life, a new chaos has been introduced to my life: my sons' joy of deep frying.

I blame my husband, who bought the deep fryer years ago and came up with the idea of pulling it out of storage last week to make french fries.

Then, late one afternoon, I heard my sons having an animated and enthusiastic conversation in the kitchen.  They informed me that I should stay out of the kitchen while they experimented with the deep fryer. I was told I just couldn't handle what they hadgoing on in there--and they were right. On the deep frying list: cheese, fries, doritos, and bacon. They then dug through the fridge to see what else could be deep fried.

They made disparaging comments about me for not having the deep fryer out every night as a central component of all food preparation.

Over the past few days, I have witnessed more french fries than I could stand, multiple attempts at deep frying bacon, deep fried hot dogs, corn dogs, and, just for fun, ice cream (that one didn't work so well).
The deep fryer has taken up residence on my kitchen counter. Oil splatters are everywhere. My favorite chocolate chip cookie recipe card that had been left on the counter now has a permanent oil coating.

I walk into the kitchen and roll my eyes. At the same time, though, my heart is warmed. At 16 and almost 19 (this week!), the days when my sons will be together to concoct a kitchen mess are numbered. I am reminded that when I hear them, it means they are in my home.

I'll have lots of years to clean up the kitchen after they're gone. For now, I'll enjoy their chaos and mess. And the french fries.