Stories from the Stringam Family Ranches of Southern Alberta

From the 50s and 60s to today . . .



Friday, April 13, 2018

Half Baked

The greatest food fight in the history of the world. (Credit: The Great Race.)

Mother stopped in the kitchen doorway.
The look on her face would have been comical, if it wasn’t so . . . not.
Uh-oh. Busted.
I glanced sideways at Sally and she looked at me. I dropped the lime I was holding and it hit the floor with a wet ‘plop’.
Mom stepped inside the room, then stopped again. She was staring down at the floor.
I, too looked down. A large puddle of . . . something that may once have been butter ended right where mom’s white tennis shoes began.
Ummm . . .
She lifted her head and looked right at Sally and me. I was pretty sure I knew what was coming next. “I knew something was up when the doggo came running out of the room with his tail between his legs!”
Nope I guess I was wrong.
“How did this happen?”
Bingo! That’s the one!
I glanced again at Sally. I could see the corners of her mouth turn up slightly.
Mine did the same.
“We . . . ummm . . . we were baking a cake,” Sally began, rather timidly. Just then the timer ‘dinged’ on the stove. She nodded toward it. “See?”
Mom waved a hand, taking in the liberally bedaubed cupbards, walls and floors. “Is this a usual ‘cake-baking’ technique?” Her voice was deceptively calm.
“Ummm . . .” I began. Again Sally and I looked at each other. “I’m going to hazard a ‘no’?”
“And you’d be right!”
Yessss!
“Which is wrong on so many levels I can’t possibly count them!”
Rats!
Again she waved a hand. “So? How did this happen?”
I scratched my cheek, then realized something was dripping down my face. I looked at my fingers. Was that egg?
“Gwen? Sally?”
“We were baking a cake,” Sally said again.
Mom raised her eyebrows. “And?”
“And things got out of hand,” I volunteered.
Mom nodded. “I can see that.”
I got a paper towel and wiped my face. Yep. Egg. And quite possibly milk. I frowned as I tried to remember the exact chain of events that had led us to the present situation. “I was looking in the fridge for the eggs.”
“And I was trying to find the cinnamon,” Sally added.
“And I found them.”
“And so did I.”
“And I dropped one.”
“Right on my head.”
I looked at Sally. “It was totally an accident.”
Mom interrupted there. “How can you accidentally drop an egg on your sister’s head?”
“Well, I was carrying the container and I had to lift it to get past her and it . . . sort of . . . tipped.” I demonstrated.
Mom snorted. “Sort of tipped.”
“Yeah. And then an egg fell on Sally and—you know—broke open. And then Sally said I did it on purpose, but I really didn’t.”
“She totally did!” Sally broke in. “I mean, why lift it over my head. Why not just go around?” She picked up the container of cinnamon and smiled. “And then I accidentally—sort of—spilled the cinnamon in her direction.”
“In her direction.” Mom folded her arms.
“Yeah. And it—sort of—got on her. You know.”
“I’m beginning to.”
“And then Gwen got the flour,” Sally said.
I made a face at her. “And you got the butter.”
“There might have been a bit of oil in there somewhere.”
“And a couple more eggs.” I rubbed at my face with the paper towel again.
“And a few limes.”
“I know for sure there was a least one cup of milk.”
Sally grinned. “At least one because your hair has reached the saturation point.”
I touched my dripping head. She was right.
Mom said something under her breath.
“Language, Mom,” I said.
Mom puffed up like a toad. “I get to say whatever I want! You two fruit bats have made your last mess!” She took a long breath. “Now clean this up!” She waved a hand. “I don’t care how long it takes. I don’t care how you do it. Get it clean!”
“Could we have a piece of cake first?” I asked.
Mom threw her hands into the air. “Aarrgh!”
“I’m guessing that means no?”
She turned and left.
Sally and I looked at each other.
I gave her a slow grin and tossed an egg up into the air a couple of times.

Each month, a intrepid group of writers submits a series of random words to Karen of Baking in a Tornado. She then re-distributes them to the others in the group.
My words this months were: butter ~ lime ~ saturation ~ doggo ~ language

And they were submitted by:  Climaxed         
This is so much fun!
Hop over and see what the others have done!

12personalities12
My Brand of Crazy



14 comments:

  1. Love this story. Once I figured out what was going on, I was picturing the mess in my head, and totally freaking out. No wonder mamas often drink.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Oh my, I walked in on quite a few kitchen messes when my kids were young, too. But t least it sounds like you were having fun!

    ReplyDelete
  3. Things getting out of hand takes a split second. The clean up is a whole new (and much longer) story.

    ReplyDelete
  4. You guys were sooooo bad. Wish I was there.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. You were there in spirit, Delores! But where did you go during clean up? ;)

      Delete
  5. bahahaha, I love it. I can see it all in my mind

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Heehee! It looks a lit tidier in my mind . . .

      Delete
  6. I loved it. It always amazes me how your mind works!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. My Husby says that! Of course, he is shaking his head when he says it. Sigh.

      Delete
  7. I LOVE this story, while being very glad such a thing never happened in my kitchen.

    ReplyDelete

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