Wednesday, December 2, 2009

Oh no Papa, not the strudel and the rolls.

My mom makes a wonderful Thanksgiving dinner: turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, and Brussel sprouts. (I brought some homemade cranberry sauce and a cranberry-pear pie.)

The bread is one of the highlights of the meal. Mom bakes these rolls that are the standard against which I measure other rolls: firm crust, fluffy insides, buttery goodness and a hint of sweetness. I always eat two rolls at dinner. Because if I slice one in half, I don’t know whether to eat the top or the bottom. (It never occurs to me to cut it vertically.)

I managed to eat another roll as an after-dinner snack. And I was looking forward to eating my other leftovers, too. Maybe I’d make a turkey sandwich on one of those rolls.

Except Papa outsmarted me. Again. Pulled the plastic bag from the counter, ripped it open, and ate the two rolls. I didn’t photograph her handiwork, but I do have these photos from a couple of weeks ago, when she busted into a sealed container for some strudel.

My dad gave captions to the three photos:

“I’m innocent!”
“I’m guilty!”
“I’m going to jail.”


Bill Zuback said...

I won't talk without my lawyer present.

Naomi said...

That would be a good caption for the middle photo.