Note: This story has previously appeared on my blog The Family Dance. I have found over the past year that maintaining two blogs is a tremendous time commitment, so I am considering and wanted to experiment with the idea of bringing some of my posts over to Aunt Nubby's Kitchen and possibly work at combining the two blogs. I'd love to have your feedback on having the blogs combined (or not).
Yesterday I bought two perfect sweet potatoes from the grocery store. I hand-picked them from the produce bin for their shape and size, as I planned to bake them, and I am persnickety about my sweet potatoes. I don't like the skinny ones; I want mine to be fat in the middle, slightly tapered at each end, and not too big. I don't want any of those strangely shaped ones that look like they were meant to be crafted into animals to display at the county fair.
I chose two that met my requirements and purchased them along with a box of spinach and arugula and a bunch of radishes. Oh yes, and I bought frozen waffles for my grandson, too, the strawberry and the chocolate chip ones, and also some milk. Then I took my purchases home and carried the bags inside, unpacked them on the kitchen counter and put it all away.
Fast forward to the following evening when I started to make dinner, and I headed to the pantry to get my sweet potatoes. I looked in the potato bin, but the only thing there was a bag of russet potatoes. My two carefully chosen tubers seemed to be out of place. I thought back to yesterday and remembered seeing them on the counter in the plastic produce bag amid the other groceries. So, I headed back to the kitchen to see if maybe I had just neglected to put them away, and perhaps they were pushed back between the toaster and the mixer.
I moved the toaster aside to reveal - nothing. Where did I put those sweet potatoes? Remembering the other items I had bought, I went to check the refrigerator first, then the freezer, but no sweet potatoes were found in either place.
How strange . . . do you suppose a thief would come stealthily into my house and bypass the computer sitting on the kitchen desk, my purse thrown carelessly on the stool in the corner, and the iPad on the bar, and then sneak out with my two prized sweet potatoes?
I don't know, but I do know this: My sweet potatoes are gone, and I don't know where they are. I have a hunch that I will eventually find those sweet potatoes exactly where I put them, but it may not be in any logical place. I did a great job when I put those potatoes away.
Something tells me there is more missing here than sweet potatoes. What I'm afraid of is that the sweet potato thief could be the same culprit who keeps snatching tiny bits and pieces of my memory. I think it's time I reported this, and I will, just as soon as I can find my phone book.
Yesterday I bought two perfect sweet potatoes from the grocery store. I hand-picked them from the produce bin for their shape and size, as I planned to bake them, and I am persnickety about my sweet potatoes. I don't like the skinny ones; I want mine to be fat in the middle, slightly tapered at each end, and not too big. I don't want any of those strangely shaped ones that look like they were meant to be crafted into animals to display at the county fair.
I chose two that met my requirements and purchased them along with a box of spinach and arugula and a bunch of radishes. Oh yes, and I bought frozen waffles for my grandson, too, the strawberry and the chocolate chip ones, and also some milk. Then I took my purchases home and carried the bags inside, unpacked them on the kitchen counter and put it all away.
Fast forward to the following evening when I started to make dinner, and I headed to the pantry to get my sweet potatoes. I looked in the potato bin, but the only thing there was a bag of russet potatoes. My two carefully chosen tubers seemed to be out of place. I thought back to yesterday and remembered seeing them on the counter in the plastic produce bag amid the other groceries. So, I headed back to the kitchen to see if maybe I had just neglected to put them away, and perhaps they were pushed back between the toaster and the mixer.
I moved the toaster aside to reveal - nothing. Where did I put those sweet potatoes? Remembering the other items I had bought, I went to check the refrigerator first, then the freezer, but no sweet potatoes were found in either place.
How strange . . . do you suppose a thief would come stealthily into my house and bypass the computer sitting on the kitchen desk, my purse thrown carelessly on the stool in the corner, and the iPad on the bar, and then sneak out with my two prized sweet potatoes?
I don't know, but I do know this: My sweet potatoes are gone, and I don't know where they are. I have a hunch that I will eventually find those sweet potatoes exactly where I put them, but it may not be in any logical place. I did a great job when I put those potatoes away.
Something tells me there is more missing here than sweet potatoes. What I'm afraid of is that the sweet potato thief could be the same culprit who keeps snatching tiny bits and pieces of my memory. I think it's time I reported this, and I will, just as soon as I can find my phone book.
Yesterday I bought two perfect sweet potatoes from the grocery store. I hand-picked them from the produce bin for their shape and size, as I planned to bake them, and I am persnickety about my sweet potatoes. I don't like the skinny ones; I want mine to be fat in the middle, slightly tapered at each end, and not too big. I don't want any of those strangely shaped ones that look like they were meant to be crafted into animals to display at the county fair.
I chose two that met my requirements and purchased them along with a box of spinach and arugula and a bunch of radishes. Oh yes, and I bought frozen waffles for my grandson, too, the strawberry and the chocolate chip ones, and also some milk. Then I took my purchases home and carried the bags inside, unpacked them on the kitchen counter and put it all away.
Fast forward to the following evening when I started to make dinner, and I headed to the pantry to get my sweet potatoes. I looked in the potato bin, but the only thing there was a bag of russet potatoes. My two carefully chosen tubers seemed to be out of place. I thought back to yesterday and remembered seeing them on the counter in the plastic produce bag amid the other groceries. So, I headed back to the kitchen to see if maybe I had just neglected to put them away, and perhaps they were pushed back between the toaster and the mixer.
I moved the toaster aside to reveal - nothing. Where did I put those sweet potatoes? Remembering the other items I had bought, I went to check the refrigerator first, then the freezer, but no sweet potatoes were found in either place.
How strange . . . do you suppose a thief would come stealthily into my house and bypass the computer sitting on the kitchen desk, my purse thrown carelessly on the stool in the corner, and the iPad on the bar, and then sneak out with my two prized sweet potatoes?
I don't know, but I do know this: My sweet potatoes are gone, and I don't know where they are. I have a hunch that I will eventually find those sweet potatoes exactly where I put them, but it may not be in any logical place. I did a great job when I put those potatoes away.
Something tells me there is more missing here than sweet potatoes. What I'm afraid of is that the sweet potato thief could be the same culprit who keeps snatching tiny bits and pieces of my memory. I think it's time I reported this, and I will, just as soon as I can find my phone book.
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