The Good Kind of Scum

Last week I invested the better part of a long afternoon crafting a unique gourmet meal. I'm a realist when it comes to committing my time and energy to concoct something new and difficult, particularly when it comes to my kids. In other words, nine times out of ten they rely upon any of their senses, aside from "taste," to determine if they like it or not, so it's imperative to keep this in mind as I flambe/blanche/infuse.

In all honestly, it's their sixth sense that they rely upon most of all. Unfortunately, relying upon an abstract sense when they haven't even mastered the other five yet is pretty futile and fruitless.

As a result, it's pretty tough to compete with mac 'n cheese.

However, over the years we've worked hard to get the kids to at least pretend to appreciate the effort. My ideal responses from them in prioritized order are:

1. Actually taste the damn thing (yes - unrealistic, I know...)
2. Smile and say, "Thanks for cooking!" Then continue smiling through the meal. Without eating. Quietly.
3. Not wail, "THIS IS DISGUSTING!!!"

Believe me, I'm ecstatic when they can even manage #3.

As they've gotten older I can absolutely see they are trying harder and harder to remember not to denigrate my efforts, but sometimes their efforts come out not quite as they intended. We now have a zero tolerance policy on meal preparation denigration in the hopes that any time these kids are guests at someone else's house, that host will be spared the brutal barbed insults. 

Last week as I set the incredible looking meal on the table, steam and complex aromas wafting among us like a benevolent miasma, both girls managed to keep their faces non-committal. Blank. Quiet.

Tremendous.

Reese, magnanimously working hard to show her appreciation, even went as far as to proactively take a spoonful and place a droplet on her plate. She took a long look at it, brow furrowed...finally and conclusively formulating an opinion.

"This is scum," she proclaimed.

Paige and I looked at each other. 

Sigh. 

"Do you understand how offensive that is to dad after spending the past four hours cooking for you?" Paige said, purely for her own benefit, as she knew only too well it was a rhetorical question. 

"Good-bye," I added, "we're having dinner without you tonight; no need to ruin everyone else's meal." 

But strangely, Reese was honestly shocked at our responses. Her eyes went wide and I could instantly tell she felt the highest level of injustice had just been unfairly inflicted upon her. 

"But-but-but..." she started; we weren't having any of it.

"Nope - keep it to yourself," we added, "just leave."

Defeated, she got up and slowly trudged away. I could see her mind working overtime - trying to determine how things went so wrong, and I was starting to get confused... 

Finally, just before she was gone, she turned around one last time with a broken, misunderstood look on her face and loudly pleaded, "But, I meant the good kind of scum!"

Ah. I should have known: not only was it not an insult, it was actually a compliment! Silly us.

Still, to her it was simply a misunderstanding, and obviously in the end it was more a discussion about understanding the meaning of the words she chose to use rather than intentionally spewing disdain or pointed insults. 

Perhaps she really meant crumb.

Sorghum.

Yum-yum?

Look, in all reality, I'm all for the good kind of scum when the intent behind the words is pure. Otherwise, scum is just scum: nasty. Impure. Evil.

This entire season of Survivor is just plain scum. From the booting of the only interesting players to the inane, imbecilic tribal council votes (and lack thereof), from the human embarrassment quitters to the complete lack of strategy and foresight from a single contestant, this is the bad kind of scum in every sense of every meaning of the word. 

With 21 seasons nearly under the belt, we've seen the best of the best (the last two seasons in particular), and the scum of the scum. It's frustrating - no doubt - but we also know that each season is fleeting and brings with it the promise of a new beginning in a few short weeks. There can be beauty. There is hope.

Are we spoiled having experienced Russell twice in a row? Having experienced brilliant strategy executed covertly and to perfection via delicious blindsides and bold declarations of giving it 100% no matter what the odds? Having experienced meaningful and pleasurable abs and fuzz-outs?

Yes, yes, a thousand times yes.

So is it fair for us to be irritated - nay, offended that we have to be subjected to this scum for another week before someone supremely undeserving gets crowned "Survivor" and is handed a check for a million dollars?

Yes, yes, a million times yes.

They owe us.

Damn right they do - and at the very least we should demand nothing less than the good kind of scum.