Bud went on a diet. This means he’s polished off everything easy to grab in the pantry so never plans to eat again. After forty-five years, I know his habits. Trying to forestall a late-day panic, I asked early in the day if he’d like me to make something light. I was thinking, fruit salad, jello with fruit, something like that. “No, I am on a diet.”
He went all day till he caved about five, Dinner was pinto beans with lean pork over brown rice, a nice salad, and cornbread. Dinner again at seven with pinto beans, pork, rice, cornbread, but to cut calories, no salad. About eight, he jumped like he’d been poked with a hot-shot, exclaiming proudly “I know what I want! Tea cakes!” You’d have thought he was an astrophysicist with a new theory,
Deep in WordPress, I’d already settled for the evening. “I asked you earlier today if you wanted me to make something and you said ‘No.’.”
“But you didn’t say anything about teacakes.” This could end peacefully only one way. He said he’d help.
He got all the stuff out. I measured and put them in the bowl as he told me about a dozen things I was doing wrong. I ignored him. I’m the best cook I know. In about ten minutes the cookies were done. There are four of them left. He will probably be on a diet till about three. If you hurry, you can get here while the coffee’s still hot.