Hi! Mr. Monte here.

Let me set the scene for you. Old Fuzz Face is in hiding. He’s afraid he might be caught laughing. Blondie is gnashing her teeth. And I, Mr. Monte, am trying to get this post out before she catches me at the keyboard.

What happened? Well, it all started last night with Blondie’s post Biscuits and Mom’s Birthday. Blondie had said that she was going to make some of her mom’s biscuits for breakfast. Fuzz Face was delighted with the prospect. And I, a true lover of buttered biscuits, ran into the bedroom and moved the alarm clock a full hour ahead. The entirety of Serendipity Farmhouse was poised and ready for biscuits in the morning.

It was then that Blondie realized, “We have no self rising flour! I can’t make biscuits in the morning”

Yegads! Fuzz Face went into shock and I nipped Blondie on the ankle. How could she not have self rising flour?

Old Fuzz Face, trying to recover from Blondie’s revelation, stood up to his full rather diminutive height and declared boldly, “I’m going to the corner store to get self rising flour! I’m leaving right now!”

Blondie and I watched him dash to the door and soon we heard his car screaming down the drive and careening around the turn onto Water Street heading for town. In about 10 to 15 minutes, we heard Fuzzy’s car slowly come around the final turn into the drive. For a man who had been so taken up in the ecstasy of anticipation for some of those wonderful biscuits, he was now returning from the store as a bent over, aging wreck of a man. His only words were, “Where the self rising flour was supposed to be, there was just a void, a hole, an utter emptiness.”

And so it was, Blondie, Fuzz Face, and I went sadly to bed, no expectations, no dreams, no hope – there would be no biscuits in the morning.

Today, we watched the snow fall, drank our coffee (yes, occasionally I sniff their cups), and suffered through the day.

As we began to prepare dinner, Blondie said it was time to put some flour into the container in the kitchen. Fuzz Face and I barely noticed what she said. In a minute or two, she returned from the pantry. We noticed that her hair was particularly blonde at that moment.

Her single statement was, “I must have been thinking of Mom when I bought this by mistake.”

In Blondie’s hand was a FIVE POUND bag of SELF RISING flour! It had been in the pantry the whole time.

Now you know why I call her “Blondie”. Now you know why Old Fuzz Face is in hiding. Now you know why I’m trying to get this post out before she finds me at the keyboard.

Perhaps tomorrow morning there will be biscuits on the table.