It’s a mystery…I’m visiting the ranch again and we decided to make blueberry pie. Mom started the crust but forgot she had already put the water in…so then there was too much water. She started over, but the crust wouldn’t hold together. Then she realized she was out of flour for the top crust. I took over doing the bottom (I’m not afraid to dump it in the bottom of the pie plate and just smash it all the way around. No one sees the bottom. And in this case, there was barely enough so I’m not even sure there was a bottom crust all the way around!) We sent Dad to the store because he was going to town to church.
Apparently Dad has never shopped for flour. First he called to ask which aisle it was in. We told him to look for the sugar/flour aisle. He found it. We told him to look for the five pound bags. He found the bags, but insisted those little bags couldn’t be five pounds. I guess when you lift hay bales all the time, those little bags don’t seem to weigh much. He finally read the label and agreed they might be five pounds, but, “It isn’t very much flour.” I agree, Dad. You don’t get much in a five pound bag, especially given the cost.
Next we sent him to find sweet potatoes. Now, mind you, the man gardens every year. He has grown sweet potatoes. So he found them readily enough, but he had to call back to find out if we wanted red sweet potatoes, yams or regular sweet potatoes. Now, had he dug them up out of the garden, he would have brought them up and said, “These are sweet potatoes or yams or something. Fix them and we’ll eat them.” But in the store, he can’t decide which ones we might want. I told him to get one of each. Mom told him to get the regular ones or the red ones. He then informed us the red ones looked the best of the lot. WELL THEN GET THOSE!
If he already knew which ones looked good, he could have saved all the questions!
When he got home, it turned out he had purchased Organic flour. Mom was speechless over the price. I thought she might swoon. Dad wanted to know what “Organic” flour was and why it was a big deal. I opened the flour before Mom could recover because sure enough, she sputtered, “But wait! I can take it back.” Too late. I want pie. Sometime today.
Mr. Snuggles is doing well. He tried to mow me over, chewed on my sleeve, drooled broccoli goop in my hair and ran around kicking up a storm. I guess that means he was glad to see me.