Snickering.
No, cracking up…they’re actually cracking up.
If I knew you were coming, Ida baked a cake.
Someone deceived me. Let’s call her Betty.
“Just add water,” she said.
“And whatever you do, don’t grease the pan,” she said.
The instructions appeared so simple I’m surprised they didn’t say just to throw the box mix in the oven and turn it to “hot.”
So what did we do, you might ask? We ate it anyway. We ate the top {er, bottom??} off right when it came out of the oven. Then I left it in the pan overnight out of sheer frustration and possibly questioning of my life’s direction.
And guess what it had the gall to do in the morning: slide perfectly on out of that pan right onto my serving platter. You could almost hear the Hilly Holbrook as it did.
Who? Lil’ ole me??
I made some baked salmon the following night. And it had the strangest taste.
Almost of charred angel wing.
