Results of the November Election
It really is impossible to know how one candidate's triumph over another during an election will affect your life.
Here is the straight truth: I have a flat loaf of too-strong Pepper Rosemary Bread cooling on my stove and cabbage in my fridge because Obama was reelected. But that is not all, friends. No, that is, by far, just the beginning of it.
Exactly three weeks after I made the short walk to my voting precinct, I heard rustling at my door and a purposeful knock. I opened the door to find an enormous box. My neighbor was smiling behind it.
"I've signed up for weekly delivery of local, organic produce. With Obama president for another four years, I thought I would do my part," she explained.
I didn't quite follow her explanation, only that she had more food than she and her husband could eat... far more than she could even fit in her tiny kitchen.
We were just beginning to see the bottom of our Thanksgiving leftovers, having a neighbor share their abundance with us seemed fitting and seasonal.
But then there was the week of the fennel (thank you, Mom, for the cookbook which included mugshots of this one), the bushel of parsley, and an unknown squash. I've been known to make some creative recipes all in the name of not letting good food go to waste, but with a rap sheet like this, I wanted to keep my distance. Glowing thoughts of sharing harvest abundance faded and instead I was reminded of the original sense of the gift of a white elephant: a valuable, yet burdensome possession.
Perfect timing once that occurred to me, really. I had been casting about for a suitable white elephant gift for a party and had come up with nothing better than a hand-me-down Barney toy. Call me an uninitiated parent, but Barney-anything has a way of taking me out of the Christmas spirit lickety-split.
I arrived at the party with my enormous wrapped box of harvest abundance and left with a prize for "Most Creative Gift". Not too shabby, eh? I learned later that the recipient of the fennel and parsley was so thrilled with it that she signed up for her own produce delivery. Who'da thunk?
Several weeks running, my to do list has resembled that of an overly domesticated environmental activist: Save the mint! Save the lemons! Save the rosemary!
And now you know why there is a sad-looking loaf of bread in my kitchen.
I'm still enamored with the concept of sharing an overly abundant harvest with others, but let me give you a gentle suggestion: until you hear that I've figured out how to use the dried purple corn, the three dozen cubes of frozen mint, the vega smoothie mix, snow belle radishes, and whatever tomorrow brings, you might want to come up with a polite way to excuse yourself from any dinner invitation I extend. Because regardless of your political persuasion, this is one Obama era outcome you will want to avoid.
Here is the straight truth: I have a flat loaf of too-strong Pepper Rosemary Bread cooling on my stove and cabbage in my fridge because Obama was reelected. But that is not all, friends. No, that is, by far, just the beginning of it.
Exactly three weeks after I made the short walk to my voting precinct, I heard rustling at my door and a purposeful knock. I opened the door to find an enormous box. My neighbor was smiling behind it.
"I've signed up for weekly delivery of local, organic produce. With Obama president for another four years, I thought I would do my part," she explained.
I didn't quite follow her explanation, only that she had more food than she and her husband could eat... far more than she could even fit in her tiny kitchen.
We were just beginning to see the bottom of our Thanksgiving leftovers, having a neighbor share their abundance with us seemed fitting and seasonal.
But then there was the week of the fennel (thank you, Mom, for the cookbook which included mugshots of this one), the bushel of parsley, and an unknown squash. I've been known to make some creative recipes all in the name of not letting good food go to waste, but with a rap sheet like this, I wanted to keep my distance. Glowing thoughts of sharing harvest abundance faded and instead I was reminded of the original sense of the gift of a white elephant: a valuable, yet burdensome possession.
Perfect timing once that occurred to me, really. I had been casting about for a suitable white elephant gift for a party and had come up with nothing better than a hand-me-down Barney toy. Call me an uninitiated parent, but Barney-anything has a way of taking me out of the Christmas spirit lickety-split.
I arrived at the party with my enormous wrapped box of harvest abundance and left with a prize for "Most Creative Gift". Not too shabby, eh? I learned later that the recipient of the fennel and parsley was so thrilled with it that she signed up for her own produce delivery. Who'da thunk?
Several weeks running, my to do list has resembled that of an overly domesticated environmental activist: Save the mint! Save the lemons! Save the rosemary!
And now you know why there is a sad-looking loaf of bread in my kitchen.
I'm still enamored with the concept of sharing an overly abundant harvest with others, but let me give you a gentle suggestion: until you hear that I've figured out how to use the dried purple corn, the three dozen cubes of frozen mint, the vega smoothie mix, snow belle radishes, and whatever tomorrow brings, you might want to come up with a polite way to excuse yourself from any dinner invitation I extend. Because regardless of your political persuasion, this is one Obama era outcome you will want to avoid.
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