The Great Flour Miscommunication

Ruthie Gray Uncategorized Leave a Comment

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My wonderful husband grocery shops for me.  I know, I’m spoiled, but before you get jealous, remember the trade-off.  He’s out of town at least some part of the week every week – last week it was Sunday through Friday. So when he’s in town he does the Sam’s and Walmarting and picks up quick things for me to fix for dinners during the week.

Friday a week ago we had gone out to dinner with the fam and stopped by Kroger on our way home.  I had a “small list” – of course you know how that grows. “I thought you just had a few things to get.” Jim lamented. I giggled – we’ve all been there.  I picked up a bag of flour, remembering we were nearly out (except for whole wheat, and nobody but me eats that).  “I just got a big bag of flour at Sam’s the other day.” Jim remarked.  “Are you sure? I don’t think we have any.” I replied.  “Yes, I was with Kylie, she said we needed flour and it’s in the cabinet at home.” I decided to trust his word, even though I still thought he was wrong.  We went home and I forgot about it.

He flew out Sunday morning, played a golf tournament in Virginia Beach, then flew to Florida Tuesday.  Poor guy.  75 degree weather and I’m stuck in gloomy West (By God) Virginia where we had one day of sun and ended up with snow by Friday.

We had school (of course), an orthodontist appointment, I took my mom to a 3 1/2 hour stress test, and the girls ended the week Friday morning with a pretty tough test in their college math class.  I watched Hayley march all the way to the car with a frown on her face and knew I should offer to make it better by whipping up a little treat for them when we got home.

We decided on home made bicuits so I reached in the cabinet for the flour and guess what – there was a measely little bit in a pitifully rolled up bag. This did not make me happy, for I knew I’d have to improvise since I’d already committed.  I fired off a text to Jim: “You were wrong about the flour.  I just want you to know that.”  I measured out the extra wheat to make up for the lacking white flour.  “No way, I looked when we got home.  I swear I saw it.” Jim – still trying to be right.  “You saw that big bag of sugar and now I am making biscuits for my babies because they had a rough test and some of it has to be wheat.”  “Ok sorry but they are my babies too.” Jim – still trying to hold his ground. “Then you should feel sorry for them.” I was ready for an apology. “I do.” He said, and that was the end of the conversation.  I made some pitiful tasting biscuits because I got so distracted with the texting that I forgot if I put in salt or not so I put in extra salt just to be sure they rose. Apparently I put in or left out something else because I have never tasted biscuits so bitter in my life!  “They’re still good!” Hayley, ever my little kitchen cheerleader, ” The consistency is perfect, I just think maybe they’re a teeny bit salty.”   “No, Hayley, these are terrible.  No amount of honey or jam is gonna make this better.” I was disgusted now. Taryn had joined us just in time for what she thought was a treat – but she got tricked.  We had a good laugh over it, but I hate that after years of successful biscuit making, I could actually turn something out as disgusting as that.

This morning Jim went to Sam’s for me, we met with the girls for lunch, and then went to Walmart together.  “We don’t have any more vanilla.” Hayley said.  “No, I’m sure we do.” I replied.  “No, dad just bought a huge thing of it at Sam’s, ’cause we were out.” Kylie countered.  “Are you SURE we were out?” I asked. Jim stepped up then, “Yes, we were out so I just got some.” As I we walked toward the snack isle I commented, “we are out of plastic wrap.” to which Jim replied, “No, I just got that.” “Really?”  “No. Just kidding.”

And so we came home and forgot to buy the plastic wrap.  But I did look for the vanilla that I was sure we had – it was non-existent.  Score one for Jim – I guess he redeemed himself after all.  And the grocery store discussion saga continues…

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