Today I went on this epic, Betty Crocker cooking rampage. I don’t think I really know who Betty Crocker is or was (I’m assuming she was married to Barry Crocker, which again could be a wild guesstimation). It felt like a last hurrah in cooking in Dad’s familiar kitchen which I cleaned out of anything remotely edible or within its used by date. It can’t be long now. Every night I go to bed with the exact same feeling I used to get on Christmas Eve, when my sister and I used to rig up some elaborate contraption that would decipher whether Santa had been or not, without us actually having to open the door and check ourselves, inevitably catching Santa in the act, which would of course have been so devastating for all parties involved that Santa would put our names on the naughty list next year. Like I was saying, I go to bed so excited that tomorrow might just be the day… I keep making excuses to go out there. Yesterday I told a little porky pie about leaving a light switch on which my Dad totally bought so we had to swing by:
What I said: “I guess I did remember, at least my mind is at ease”
What I was thinking: “SUCKER!”
I think I wracked up 9 hours playing Trivial Pursuit this weekend. I bought it at a garage sale for $3.00 at 7am on Saturday morning. Dad was really proud that I knew Bangladesh used to be East Pakistan.
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