Farmer H brought home some chicken pot pie from the Senior Center on Tuesday. He had a container with a full dinner, plus a small container with another serving of chicken pot pie, and another with a slice of blueberry pie. He said he brought the dinner for ME. That they persuaded him to take it, and were giving out extra to other people as well.
Upon further interrogation, Farmer H revealed that he was pretty full, having been served a DOUBLE portion of the chicken pot pie for his lunch. That's because they know he doesn't like beets.
That's a LOT of chicken pot pie. I had some for supper that night, and some the next day. No beets for me, either! I've never tried one, and never will. I didn't like the smell. I couldn't eat the slaw, because Farmer H had been lax in his handling of the leftovers, and beet juice spilled in. Farmer H tried to tell me that the slaw had a purple tint anyway. Nope! I saw that beet juice accumulated in the bottom of that section, in a puddle.
The chicken pot pie was quite tasty, though I prefer mine without the corn and green beans and lima beans and something that might have been squash. The crust was delicious. I enjoy crust, as long as it's not on a dessert pie.
Here's what else Farmer H presented me with this day:
TRASH! The bag he had used to carry home the dinner and the pie. Left it right there on the top of the stove, which was still warm from my last batch of Chex Mix.
When Farmer H came to the kitchen later to get his pie, I asked him if he might have forgotten something. He was standing RIGHT BESIDE that trash, getting a serving spoon out of the drawer to eat his pie.
"No. Why?"
"What's that right next to you, on the stove?"
"Huh."
Farmer H picked it up and turned, took two steps, and threw it away. But not before snorting like I was being petty for not throwing it away FOR him! Like that's my job. A normal person would have thought to throw away the bag right after taking the meal out and putting it in FRIG II.
Any "gift" from Farmer H always comes with a price tag attached. In this case, the assumption that I would be picking up after him.
7 comments:
I like chicken pot pie that I make but am picky about others and I love beets. I grew up with them. My dad grew them, and my mom canned them. I don't find the canned ones too often, so I buy pickled beets that are a nice kick to any turkey or chicken meal. My husband was unfamiliar with beets and will eat 1 pickled beet, just to see how he feels about the taste. We don't have them too often, so he does this test each time. He only ever eats the one beet. I guess he still prefers to not include them in his diet. Ranee (MN)
Rae,
These beets definitely had a pickled smell. We never had beets at home, though my grandma had them at her house. I think that's one thing she didn't grow or can. Her dill pickles were the best! We helped her pick the dill and the cucumbers. Which were fields away from each other, in two separate gardens.
I can understand him not throwing away the trash, but I didn't think he'd be so silly as to put it on the stove! no one I know does that, although I've seen house fires on the news that were started by something being left on a stove so clearly he isn't the only one out there.
River,
WHAT??? You UNDERSTAND him not throwing away the trash? As in, he was right to leave it there for me to throw away after he put the dinner in FRIG II! OR... you are not surprised that he left the trash for me to throw away?
When we helpfully point out the misdeeds, why do they get indignant? They feel alright about telling us when we do something they think is wrong! The little hookie thing that hold the blind over the window by the dinette in the RV came out of the wall. I like to have a view when we are hurtling down the road and Toni Loise likes to watch the traffic. I had carefully reatteached it and showed HeWho and TOLD HIM NOT TO TOUCH IT! Yes, he mangled my fix. So I tied it to the level I wanted and once again brought it to his attention. For whatever reason that floats in his head he disregards my warning and tries to mke the shde go all the way down. Not like anyone could see us unless they stood on a stepstool to look in and we do not sleep there. He just this moment DID IT AGAIN! He was about to fiddle with the knot I put in it and I made the noise I make when I want the dogs to stop what they are doing. He "forgot" and then said I should have brought it to his attention and he would have fixed it!
NOT that he was right to leave it for you, but simply that he would leave it at all, it's just what he does.
Not surprised that he does this.
Kathy,
As you can imagine, I am VERY HELPFUL! Apparently, you were not clear in telling HeWho to leave your shade alone, or it would be curtains for him! Heh, heh, their stories always change when trying to justify their misdeeds.
***
River,
Whew! That's a relief. For a moment, I thought you had crossed over to the dark side: Farmer H's side!
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