Surprise
Today is Beth's birthday, and, for the first time in 20 years, I couldn't give her a decent present.
Last night, though, there was a sort of blessing in disguise. I got some pretty bad news yesterday, and as a result, I couldn't sleep. I lay in bed until midnight, when I had an idea. Beth was sleeping pretty soundly. I got out of bed, put on my clothes, and went to the 24-hour supermarket. Beth thinks I can't cook, but I was going to show her that she was wrong. I was going to make her pancakes for breakfast. I got a big box of Bisquick on sale; we already had some milk and eggs and butter in the refrigerator. I got home, trying not to wake Beth up, and I was getting out the eggs when I realized that we didn't have a metal spatula. Back the eggs went, and back I went to the supermarket to get a spatula. Hooray for our trade imbalance, because it was quite inexpensive. Finally, back home at 1:15 AM. I made a lot more batter than I was supposed to, because I was going to make pancakes until I figured out how not to burn them. About eight pancakes later, I had succeeded. Now, to wait. My friend Eugene had given me a huge book of opera plots, full of minor European operas which have probably not been performed since the days of Caruso. I read pretty quickly, but I was only about 3/4 of the way through when 5:45 came around. Now, to make the pancakes. Success! Eight perfectly formed pancakes, golden-brown in color. I put them in the oven to keep warm, woke up Beth, brought her out to the kitchen, and presented her with the dish. She was amazed. I might not have been able to get her a reasonable present, but she and I enjoyed a spiffy birthday breakfast.
Last night, though, there was a sort of blessing in disguise. I got some pretty bad news yesterday, and as a result, I couldn't sleep. I lay in bed until midnight, when I had an idea. Beth was sleeping pretty soundly. I got out of bed, put on my clothes, and went to the 24-hour supermarket. Beth thinks I can't cook, but I was going to show her that she was wrong. I was going to make her pancakes for breakfast. I got a big box of Bisquick on sale; we already had some milk and eggs and butter in the refrigerator. I got home, trying not to wake Beth up, and I was getting out the eggs when I realized that we didn't have a metal spatula. Back the eggs went, and back I went to the supermarket to get a spatula. Hooray for our trade imbalance, because it was quite inexpensive. Finally, back home at 1:15 AM. I made a lot more batter than I was supposed to, because I was going to make pancakes until I figured out how not to burn them. About eight pancakes later, I had succeeded. Now, to wait. My friend Eugene had given me a huge book of opera plots, full of minor European operas which have probably not been performed since the days of Caruso. I read pretty quickly, but I was only about 3/4 of the way through when 5:45 came around. Now, to make the pancakes. Success! Eight perfectly formed pancakes, golden-brown in color. I put them in the oven to keep warm, woke up Beth, brought her out to the kitchen, and presented her with the dish. She was amazed. I might not have been able to get her a reasonable present, but she and I enjoyed a spiffy birthday breakfast.