Last night, I made tortillas to go with the massive pot of chili that I had bubbling on the stove. I used to make tortillas a lot back in the days before eating something consisting primarily of white flour and lard seemed counterintuitive to maintaining a healthy lifestyle. In fact, I think I made them every time we had chili as well as for an occasional snack to be eaten with butter and honey. Apparently, Hugh misses the good old days because he ate almost the entire batch last night, practically body-checking The Girl in his hurry to beat her to the last one.
It amused me.
The part where he was so unabashedly happy to eat something lovingly prepared by my hands as opposed to the part where he ran over our firstborn, in case you were confused.
As I watched him slather butter on the last morsel of his incredibly unhealthy treat, we had the following conversation.
Hugh: These are so good.
Chelle: Thank you.
Hugh: You could, like, go into business and sell them, they are so good.
Chelle: I don’t know; it would take a lot of tortillas to keep me in the manner to which I have become accustomed.
Hugh: That’s true. They would have to be golden tortillas or something.
Chelle: Are you saying I’m spoiled?
Chelle: Eat your tortilla.
I may be spoiled but I am also brilliant, having finally come up with a title for my Spring Luncheon table. The title; Untitled. See, I'm using an antique typewriter for my centerpiece and my hostess gift is a blank journal and….well; it seemed clever when I thought of it and, since I haven’t come up with anything better, Untitled, it is.
This goes to show that I am spoiled and lazy; go, me!
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