We had unexpected company arriving and the house was a mess. I would like to say every one pitched in cheerfully and willingly, but lets face it, though I love my family dearly we are not perfect. Elizabeth immediately began complaining, Dorothy began “It’ll take forever”ing, Emily began crying, and Jacob just looked at me and giggled. I finally convinced them to be more cheerfully employed as I attacked the wreck that was my kitchen. I swear, someone turned loose a herd of elephants in there, five of them! I began by washing up as many dishes as would fit in the dishwasher and then clearing off the counters.
Hubby had been organizing our garage again and I had requested items out of food storage that we had run out of inside. They were sitting in cans scattered across the counter. One was a can of potato pearls. Oooh, the yummiest mashed potatoes ever. 🙂 They are instant mashed, but instead of flakes or powder they are tiny little beads of potatoes. I was trying to hurry, after all I was down to an hour before company arrived for dinner, and I still had to get dinner made.
It was somewhere between the “mommy where does this go?”, the “she’s not picking up!”, and the “what else can I do to help dear?” that I grabbed the nearly empty potato bud can to add to the nearly full potato bud can. My fingers nimbly slipped around the shiny sleakness of the round metal and sent the can spinning to the ground as I watched a poof of potato buds scatter in the air. It was the ‘blow on a dandelion’ effect as I saw them scatter both for and wide, creating a beautiful pattern in the air. I heard their soft little pings as they gently hit the floor, counters, table, you name it, they hit it.
Now, inside I was secretly delighted, because I remembered how much fun I had with the mess I had made with the tapioca. But to my everlasting dissapointment I discovered that potato buds haven’t nearly the entertainment value. As I gingerly walked across them (to make my way to a broom) I discovered that they dissolved very quickly and I was walking on mashed potatoes as they clung to my feet. Now, some may argue that it could be a revolutionary way of mashed potato creaming, after all people do smash grapes with their feet, now don’t they? But, then I am sure their feet are clean and it’s not on a floor frequented by elephants, even miniature ones. I abandoned my post as I tried to get the mashed potatoe off my feet and informed dear hubby, that he could indeed help me next by sweeping the floor.
All that, and I even managed to get dinner on by the time they arrived . . . of course they were about 20 minutes late . . .
(oh, yes, and as per usual we did sing about our saddened potatoes, but I shall save you the torture . . . )