This song kind of sets up the tenor of this post. It drones on for the first minute before getting to the part I want you to hear, so bear with it
I thought what happened yesterday was pretty funny. My daughter got a bit miffed at me briefly because she was not amused. It all began last Tuesday, well maybe it was 1958, you decide
Last Tuesday I went to the grocery store and they had gotten in too many bananas. For me one banana is too many bananas Anyway, they were selling bags weighing over twelve pounds of them for a buck and a quarter. Many were still partially green. My daughter and grandson like them so I bought a bag
You really have to care for somebody a lot to buy bananas for them if you are like my brother and I. Neither he or I want them in house and will usually step out for a couple of hours if a banana nut bread or banana cream pie is in the oven.
Now in order to tell you this story, I have to tell you another one first
When I was around seven and my brother was four, our parents would go out dancing on a Friday night once a month and we would have a baby sitter. This particular Friday night a new girl would be watching us and we would also be introduced to something brand new that we had never seen before.
Before they left and the sitter arrived my mom beamed warmly, "Boys, for dinner tonight you are going to have fried chicken, mashed potatoes, peas, and cherry cobbler!" It would be our introduction to TV dinners
The sitter arrived, they left and we watched TV. Out of the corner of my eye I saw flames in the oven and alerted the sitter The instructions didn't say to, so she put them in the oven without taking them out of the box She went in, pulled out the oven and got the fire out but it was too late for our fried chicken as all that remained blackened charred remains
We never saw her again after that night and my brother and I never forgave her for what she did next Did this teenage dumb ass, bimbo bitch call her mom and ask for help Hell no, she forced us eat bananas for dinner
Fast forward 53 years.
My daughter is pagan and yesterday was blot (pronounced bloat), a monthly ceremony involving a feast and everybody in the kindred (seven people) brings something.
She was going to bake every banana concoction known to man except for banana cream pie and banana pudding. The day before she had me go to the store and get a strawberry cake mix, three pound cake mixes, a bag of flour, a pound of butter, a dozen eggs, and a can of crushed pineapple.
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