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.

One thought on “Please pass the straight edge

  1. Sometimes that boy just lives dangerously.

    Dad R.

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