War In the Kitchen

With the exception of the time Q got "drunk" on the virus named after the Mexican beer, when she gets sick, I follow suit, and worse off! So now, Q's symptoms having been reduced to the occasional sniffle, I've been the one hacking up a lung and stuffing my nostrils with cotton batting to catch the incessant drip. As soon as she came home she was all over me, pampering, doting, serving. 

Watch The Waitress Taking My Order 

 

                           soup: spec[ial], drink: L[emon] and h[oney] tea

And voila! The lemon honey tea and soup came. She kicked the soup up a notch with English cucumber and a drizzle of olive oil. It was delish!

Then she declared that she was going to bake a cake. I stayed on the couch, listening to the clanking of pans and the thwacking of the whisk, the oven door opening and closing. Thirty minutes later the sweet aroma of chocolate cake serenaded my nostrils. (I guess I can rule out the Mexican beer virus since my sense of smell is robust!) 

 

Scotty smelled it too. He went into the kitchen to investigate from whence the sweet aroma came. But then I heard him admonishing her to "clean the egg shells and vegetable bits off the counter, and wipe the flour off the table! This kitchen was immaculate before you got home!"

Q replied "I'm taking care of Mom, YOU clean up!"

After a few minutes of this tirade between the two of them, I decided to see what all the hubbub was about. There were two platters full of cake trimmings, two pans with cake mix burnt into them, three spatulas of different sizes, a large bowl with cake batter clinging to its sides, knives, and more cake trimmings in the sink. 

An all out war broke out between the three of us in the kitchen. Scotty threatening to pull horse riding sessions, Q declaring that she would rather live in the barn with Betsy, and me chiming in – between COUGH! COUGH! COUGH! – about how many platters and spatulas does it take to bake ONE cake?!

"Stop yelling at me!" Q yelled, and finished with a resounding "NO CAKE FOR THE BOTH OF YOU!"

[In the spirit of nurturing her drive to cook and bake on her own, we cried uncle, and pretended to pout. No cake for us... Scotty really wanted a bite of that cake though!]

And then there's Romeo... wherefore art thou, my Romeo?

 

Pouting in the living room because he didn't get to have chocolate cake even though he was Switzerland throughout the war!