I am sitting here waiting for fruit to thaw. There is no better way to take a breather than to decide to be trivial and understated. The calm before the stroke.
The dinner this evening is to be a carry-in Salad Supper, with all the forms that word can take.
Mine happens to be a fruit salad.
Husband took me out to SAM’s CLUB, which might be the last time we have to do so together. He and Lucas were the partners on his card, but as a Mother’s Day gift, he bought another Club card for me and then Chris is the partner. We don’t do shopping together very well. Then again, we keep the budget in line better because of the “Are You going to buy That? Do we really need a box that big?”
Anyway, they sell a bag of DOLE frozen fruit in a six pound size. There is a recipe on the back for a type of honey glaze, which is cooked with cornstarch and lemon juice, and looks yummy.
All the ingredients are sitting on the counter, but I have to zoid out a bit from the Algebra test. Watching fruit thaw is an easy pastime.
My feelings for a good grade are mixed. I have perfect attendance for every class, I do all the homework practice pages, I asked questions and seem to understand the answers.
On test day, when the paper is set in front of me, with three words and 4 numbers and a big white space to figure the answer, my brain says “What the Hell?”
I went to the back and worked my way forward. The last two problems were what we covered in class just yesterday, I think I got them correct. The drawing graphs were just fine because of all the years of doing quilt patterns and color coordination for afghans.
Figuring out the equation and then putting it on a graph much more difficult. There was enough time that I didn’t have to leave any answers blank like last quiz, but I was the last student to turn in my paper.
The grade of C is what I have to earn to move on to the next class. I need both this Elementary then Intermediate Algebra (I signed on for a summer course) and then another Math in the Fall. Why? I ask? Why?
The time is up about the fruit, plus I have to be getting to the store and then the church building. There are two boxes to load into the car, even before I add the giant fruit salad.
People who do catering for a living are earning stripes for sainthood.
~~love and Huggs, Diane