Sausage

Smoked sausage with mac and cheese is one of my favorite comfort meals. I know it is as unhealthy as it is delicious. I grew up with it. When my mom made it, I would distract her a bit and sneak a piece of sausage—probably unconvincingly sneaky.
Not too long after I moved out of my parents’ house, I planned to make it for dinner. I sliced the sausage and boiled a pot of water for the macaroni. Smoked sausage is already cooked, but it is best with a bit of caramelization from a hot pan. The downside is the pops and splatters of hot grease.
I piled the steaming sausage slices onto a plate and turned off the stove. The hot oil was still splattering. I set out a metal can to dump the grease into. I lifted the pan off the stove and realized I needed to move the plate of sausage. I switched the pan to my left hand and pinched the plate of sausage between my thumb and the knuckle of my first finger.
I asked my wife to take the plate of sausages from me. I crossed my right arm over the hot oil across my body to hand the plate off. My thumb strained under the full weight of the plate. It slipped from the grease that coated the edge of the plate. Right as she grabbed it, I let go. Except I only thought she’d grabbed it.
I lost control of the plate too soon, and it crashed to the ground. Broken glass and sausage went everywhere. I was mad, sad, annoyed, and everything else all at once. I was even embarrassed. At the moment, I tried to eject my heavy feelings by blaming her, claiming a “failed catch.”
I didn’t wash the grease off my hands from cutting the sausage. I didn’t cover the splattering grease to keep it from getting on the plate. I didn’t wipe it off the edge of the plate. I didn’t clear my workspace before moving the hot grease. I didn’t finish what I was doing before I started the next thing. I didn’t get a better grip on that plate. I didn’t wait until I was certain she had it before I let go.
It was so much easier to blame her, but I had not set anyone up for success. I ignored all the little things along the way that could have avoided the issue. In the moment, it was easy to avoid responsibility by blaming the breakdown point. I sometimes feel like the failure is an isolated moment in time and isn’t the outcome of a series of poor choices.
Where am I not taking responsibility for what led up to this moment? What could I have done differently to avoid this? Do my choices set other people up for success?
Be curious, be kind, be whole, do good things.



It’s always, what’s my role in this? Passing up the opportunity for a learning experience is exactly that. A missed opportunity.