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Waffle Debacle

March 25, 2009

The air was warm from the sun but the wind brought a certain chill with it.  The sun began to set behind our board on board fence (the subject of much admiration) and the time on the clock read 7:35.  I had just returned from my weekly jaunt to the grocery store to stock up on frozen pizzas, ice cream and other important dietary staples.  Chad had put in an unusual request this week – waffle mix.  You see, as a wedding gift we received a waffle maker.  At the time I considered it a necessity to my impending married life.  Like a good wife I utilized the waffle maker at least 4 times before I safely stored it away out of site.  Not that I don’t love waffles but the process is messy, the product full of calories and carbs and well, that’s about it, but what other excuses do I need?  But Chad curiously and hopefully asked if the tool still existed, “Um, yeah, I think so….why?” I responded hesitantly, fearing that I would be asked to slave over a hot iron all night.  He assured me that he would make them himself, and clean up.  Though I was doubtful I dutifully purchased the mix and the necessary eggs so that he could fulfill his craving.

Step One: Pour in oil – wait, but what kind of oil?  Olive oil?  Tanning oil?  Vegetable Oil?  Chad looked at me in desperation, hoping for direction.  I assured him that he could use vegetable or canola oil, either way he wouldn’t taste the difference.   He looked at me cynically with his eyes half open and threatened a call to his mother to confirm.  I was annoyed that he wouldn’t trust me, since I had made them quite successfully many times before.  I could see him making decisions in his head; I think his immediate need for sustenance overtook his doubtful nature.  Vegetable oil it was!

Step Two:  Pour in the mix.  I reminded him that he would need to use all of the mix that he made and just freeze the waffles he didn’t eat.  This somehow translated, for him, into: Make the whole box of mix.  This was, of course, my fault.  He angrily whisked the giant bowl of mix, mumbling something under his breath about being more clear next time. 

Step Three: Totally ignore wife’s suggestions about not pouring in too much mix and consequently curse the overflow as it runs onto the counter.  I tried to warn him as I watched anxiously but it was no use, he had to do it himself.

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(I had to run upstairs when it was clean up time, I just couldn’t keep myself from assisting if I had to stand there and watch – there is no doubt some kind of ant, mouse or rodent enjoying the left overs right now.)

Step Four: Feed the entire neighborhood waffles, for the next two days.

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(Please note that I did not even have one waffle, I enjoyed a Lean Cuisine while Chad slaved away.)

Until this recent waffle debacle Chad had only “made” one other food item, pre-cooked cheese tortellini.  He was so afraid to undercook them (please note pre-cooked status) that they practically fell apart in the pot and cheese spread throughout the boiling water before he could drain and eat.  I suspect that he may stick with heating frozen food items for a while before trying anything else new!

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(Chewy was hyper focused on the leaning tower of carbs, no doubt still reeling from his adventure in bread eating on Saturday.)

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3 Comments leave one →
  1. Cindy Oates permalink
    March 25, 2009 6:47 pm

    Oh, my! This is one of your best blogs yet! Love the new writing style. Will you write a story about Beecher?

  2. Chad permalink
    March 25, 2009 7:47 pm

    you DID, in fact, nibble on waffle edges.

  3. Beth P. permalink
    March 26, 2009 4:20 pm

    Too funny! 🙂

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