Please pass the straight edge

It’s a really low-key Thanksgiving here.  My parents and brother are in town, and we’ll all just hanging out.

This morning, I sat down with a scrap piece of paper.  “Help me out, Bill,” I said.  I started listing the food I planned to serve tonight: turkey, steak, mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole.  He helped me remember all the dishes.

I then made two columns: prep time and cook time.  Fine organizational skills at work, thankyouverymuch.

As I was making horizontal lines under every dish through the columns, my husband, watching the master at work, asked, “Are those lines straight?”

I looked up at him, my eyes narrowing.  His smile was a bit too broad, too friendly.

“You will appreciate these lines come dinner time when I fill your belly with good food.”

It is never wise to tease the cook.

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One thought on “Please pass the straight edge

  1. Sometimes that boy just lives dangerously.

    Dad R.

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