Stories from the Stringam Family Ranches of Southern Alberta

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



Friday, November 16, 2018

Left at the Fork

As is usual in our home, the day started out quite normally.
But those of you who know Sally, also know this can only mean ‘something’ is coming.
In Sally’s patented roundabout way.
Sigh.
Sally’s and my school was hosting a bake sale. Proceeds to be used to buy a pair of goats for a little village somewhere in Nigeria.
So Mom and I were baking up the proverbial storm. Cakes, cookies, squares. All in a charitable effort to provide . . . charity. Initially, Sally had been helping. Then we asked her to do something else.
Somewhere else.
Because . . . reasons. Also . . . Sally.
I’m assuming she retired to the front room because shortly after she left us, the TV began to blare at about 150 decibels. Clash of the Titans. I’d know it anywhere.
Frowning sharply, Mom had raised her sticky hands into the air and marched in there.
As the sound was almost instantly halved and Mom returned still with sticky hands but minus the frown, I assume she had successfully curbed Sally’s nine-or-nothing impulse to volume control.
Peace was restored and everyone was happy.
We went back to work.
Some 90 minutes later, Mom and I had managed to bake—and frost—some four cakes, 14 dozen cookies and three large sheets of squares.
I was in the process of wrapping up those things deemed cool enough to . . . erm . . . wrap up.
Mom was mixing yet another batch of brownies.
Then, from the front room, we heard the scrape of chair legs, followed almost immediately by thumping and the sounds of battle.
All right, yes, the sounds of men and hardware were purportedly coming from the television, but there were enough local reverberations to convince both Mom and me that the movie battle currently broadcasting wasn’t confined to the screen.
We looked at each other.
“Should I . . .” Mom started to say.
That was as far as she got.
From the front room came shout of, “A Titan against a Titan!”
And, also from the front room, a huge thump, then a moment of silence.
For those of us in the kitchen, it quickly became all too apparent what that tiny moment of silence actually meant, as something long and pointy flew into the kitchen in a great, graceful arch, neatly snagging one of the two ‘iffy’ legs on the laden table.
I probably don’t need to elucidate vis-à-vis said legs because those of you who know Sally, would also know why we have a lame table.
Moving on . . .
For a moment, the table teetered on two sound and two less-sound legs.
Instinctively, I dove for it, but misgauged my trajectory and managed—rather than to right it as had been my intention—to push it to its ultimate doom.
The weakened legs folded like wilted lettuce.
Packages of baking slid to the floor in an unhurried, sweet-smelling avalanche.
Mom and I stared at the heap. Then, as one, turned to stare at the architect of our doom.
A pitchfork, still with one of the table legs clutched in its tines, lay on the far side of the kitchen, its innocent, supine position belying its former destructive-ness.
Sally appeared in the doorway. “Oops.”
If looks could skewer, Sally would have been a goner. “A pitchfork?!” Mom shouted. “Where the h-e-double-hockey-sticks did you get a pitchfork?!”
Uh-oh. Mom almost swore. Mom never almost swears.
A journey someplace far away was indicated. Sally disappeared.
Mom was two steps behind her.
I started to pick up packages.
Yep. Just another day.

P.S. Most of the baking survived the ‘clash’.
I’m not so sure about Sally…

Each month, Karen's followers exchange words.
It's fun.
And entertaining.
This month, my words were: bake ~ everyone ~ roundabout ~ journey ~ titan 
And were given to me by my good friend, Jules at The Bergham Chronicles

Now hop over and see what the others have done with their words! 
Baking In A Tornado                            
The Bergham Chronicles                         
The Blogging 911                                      
Cognitive Script                                      
Part Time Working Hockey Mom              
Sparkly Poetic Weirdo                         
Climaxed                                         


19 comments:

  1. “Oops.” is right.

    And you didn't even had to build your story around the word "pitchfork"; I could have sworn! ;-)

    ReplyDelete
  2. LOL oh my gosh, that Sally. I do love her but if she were mine I think I would throttle her!!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Me, too! Easier to write about than to live with, I'm almost sure! :)

      Delete
  3. That Sally, she keeps life interesting. Good thing she doesn't live in my house, I don't almost swear, I let 'er rip!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Gasp! ;)
      I think Sally would, to quote my mom, "Try the patience of a saint!"

      Delete
  4. Love the "unhurried, sweet smelling avalanche." So glad most of the baked good survived! I think every family has a Sally.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. It's just one of those things you can't prevent and just have to watch. In slow motion . . .
      Our family had a couple of Sallys. Sadly, I think I was one of them. ;)

      Delete
  5. Oops indeed. Big oops. Which Sally undoubtedly hears often. And says sometimes.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Replies
    1. In a word.
      Now I want to know where she got the pitchfork!

      Delete
  7. I think I would have lost my mind a bit if all those luscious baked goods had been destroyed....

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. ME, too! Although I saw an ad on TV once where a mom and son were emptying the groceries out of the car. And he drops a cherry pie. And the two of them simply get forks and eat it there and then. Grab a fork, Marcia!

      Delete
  8. All those baked and iced goodies in 90 minutes? Wow.
    I love your Sally stories, but have to say, I'd be very reluctant to let a Sally into my home.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. They don't waste any time!
      Yeah. Sally isn't allowed into our house either. Except on the computer screen! :)

      Delete
  9. oh my!I sat here and tried to think what my reaction would have been... I'm still thinking...
    :) gwingal

    ReplyDelete
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