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Sweet memories of being banned from ‘her’ kitchen

 

The missus has gone all out for Christmas this year. She’s playing Christmas music, watching every Christmas movie made, singing carols under her breath, and sitting on her proverbial throne,¬...sipping eggnog and barking out orders (I mean, sharing her wish list with me).

She’s¬...had me rummaging through the attic, looking for items to spruce up the place. She’s all full of that old Yuletide cheer with me running around, putting up a window ornament here, some tapestry hung there, and the tree center of window all aglow.

Yep, it’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas everywhere I roam. She’s trying to make it look all winter wonderland-ish, filling us both with sweet memories.¬...

Of course, she’s like many women of distinction, as she’s checking her list for the baking frenzy that arrives this time of year. This all reminds me of one year in particular. ¬...

That year, she had a ceiling fan put in the kitchen. She had not quite figured out which direction it would circulate because it hadn’t been used much.

Christmas was fast approaching, and she was all Martha Stewart, Betty Crocker, Pillsbury Doughboy, and some lady from “Hansel and Gretel.”¬...The house was filled with sweet smells of baking. The kitchen had an eerie¬...glow, as the¬...oven was on 24-hour duty, baking cookies or little gingerbread people, burning fingers, and generally heating the whole house.

The missus had this assembly line going¬...with flour bags open and sugar bags open,¬...cookie dough in bowls, cookie sheets lined up either cooling or waiting their turn for the oven. ¬...One after another, these cookie sheets would be pulled out of the oven, and a fresh batch would go right back in. ¬... ¬...

I was in another part of the house, when all of a sudden, I heard the missus give her La Grimm Ranchero yell (not fit for public ears): “I’m having a hot flash!” For some reason, I thought this would be a good time to enter her presence and grab a cookie. When I walked in, she was fanning herself with her apron, leaning up against the counter. ¬...

As soon as I came into the kitchen, she ordered me (I mean, “asked me”) to turn the fan on full blast. I yanked that ceiling fan chain a couple of tugs. The next thing I knew, we were in a white, blinding blizzard of flour and sugar swirling around us. It gave the nicest coating of white you could want for Christmas.¬...

Of course, she said the mess was my fault, and that’s when I got banned from “her” kitchen.

I hope your home has sweet memories this season.

Merry Christmas from La Grimm Ranchero.

(Remember, it isn’t Christmas without Christ.)

Warning: These musings may be serious or may be humorous. Enjoy! H.R. Grimm is a self-described lovable, prone to blunt, witty, tending toward sarcastic, saved-by-grace, constantly thinking storyteller. Grimm, a military veteran, and his wife now call La Vernia home. Email reader@lavernianews.com.

 
 
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