The Baking

I was making an apple pie, and the measuring utensils kept disappearing.

Son #1 has been wanting an apple pie for a long time. The wife doesn’t like baking pies. She prefers baking cakes or cookies, which she is very good at. But he’s been asking every day this week for an apple pie.

Homemade apple and pumpkin pies are usually a staple in the autumn months. We don’t buy store pies because they’re loaded down with only God knows what.

I’ve been trying to bake dessert every weekend. A few weeks ago, I baked a homemade pineapple upside-down cake. Then it was a blueberry cream cheesecake. This weekend it was apple pie.

So I was in the kitchen minding my own business, trying to take care of my beautiful family when I reached for a measuring cup, and it was gone. I had just used it. Where could it go?

I turn around to find my lovely wife walking away from me. Instantly, I knew what had happened.

“Where is the measuring cup?”

“Which one?”

“The one you took.” I looked at the sink, then back at the counter.

It was then that I realized that every utensil that I needed was gone from the countertop.

PSA: We interrupt our regularly scheduled
program for a brief word from our up-and
coming blogger.

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Now, back to our regularly scheduled program.

As I was saying, everything was in the sink.

“Why did you do that? I need those things.”

“I was reading an article about how this lady’s husband didn’t clean up after himself as he cooked.” She replied condescendingly. “I like to clean up after myself as I go.”

“Well, I can’t clean up after myself.” I contested. “I’ve got stuff boiling, and I have to stir it. I’ve got stuff going on. There is no time to clean right now.”

“It’s not that difficult to just put things away.”

“But I need to use it again! Why would I put it away? I will clean up AFTER I’m finished baking.” And in my mind, I added, “Thank you very much.”

“You’ll be using a clean utensil.” She laughed.

I looked at her.

“So you’re telling me that you clean up immediately after yourself, and that’s the correct way to cook?” I asked.

She replied with confidence. “Yes.”

“Well,” I said, “I’m busy cooking while I’m supposed to COOK.”

And then came the statement that I would regret.

“If you’re always cleaning up when you’re supposed to be COOKING, that’s why MY cooking always turns out better than yours.”

I tried to grab hold of those words and take them back, but they disappeared before I could.

Silence.

The kind of silence when you’re scared to move.

The cast iron pan was right in front of me on the stovetop. I slid it farther over, away from her.

I looked over at her and the look on her face. Dear God.

This is an entirely unrelated topic, but does anyone have a propane heater I could borrow?
It’s going to be nineteen degrees outside tonight.
And we don’t have any shelter here in the backyard.

I hope the apple pie was good.

to the husbands,
– Caleb