Since the oven was in use tonight, to warm some garlic cheese bread Val slapped together with day-old french bread, some Save A Lot Can't Believe It's Not Butter, a squirt of minced garlic from a squeeze bottle, some part-skim mozzarella, and a dash of garlic salt...it looks like either Val's other element is not cookin' with electric, or a behind-stove bank envelope won't burst into flame if the oven is used.
In between the first and second sink of dishes, and the 4th and 5th loads of laundry, after balancing the checkbook and filling out the personal property assessment form, but before the trip to town for some forgotten grocery items, in the midst of cleaning out Frig II...I dumped some old spaghetti sauce off the back porch deck. That's the way we do it here in Backroads. I have no garbage disposal. And no backyard neighbors. Besides, there's always some critter that will enjoy a surprise treat.
As I shook that sauce container over the rail, a glint from below caught my eye. No. It wasn't somebody's class ring from 25 years ago. No strongbox of gold coins from a lost pirate traveling over land. No Civil War cannonball (that was found before we started building the house). Look closely. Maybe you can make it out from The Pony's unfocused phone photo.
IT'S MY SPOON!
Not my favorite spoon, of course. I stash that way on the bottom of the silverware holder spoon stack. The dainty, petite, pointy-ended spoon that's at this very moment sitting beside me waiting for my Little Caesar's marinara sauce plastic holder of no-sugar-added Bunny Tracks ice cream to melt sufficiently for me to enjoy. No, this was a regular spoon from my kitchen set. Not the good silver. I don't even have any of that. Just as well! Because look where it might end up!
Of course The Pony knows nothing about how this spoon got into the backyard. Nor does Hick. Genius has not yet been interrogated, but I am sure he will pull a Schultz and declare "I know NOTHING!" That does seem unlikely, Genius allowing a spoon to fly over the rail. Because he never dumps anything off there for me. That might actually work in his favor when this judge, jury, and executioner hands down her sentence.
The Pony often gets rid of stuff for me. But I'm sure he would tell. He knows he's going to be the one sent to get it when I discover it anyway. Hick is suspect. I sometimes catch him entering or leaving by the kitchen door, and foist expired foodstuffs upon him. I can imagine him deciding that he doesn't want to deal with Val's wrath at that moment, because, well, he can pick up that spoon next summer before he mows the backyard, and, well, the Apopadopalyspe might just happen between now and then, and he won't have to do anything about the spoon.
Anyhoo...Spoony is back with his mates. And Val knows that she must run a tighter ship, and count utensils out and utensils in, much like was explained to her on a maximum-security-prison tour many years ago.
Before reading your last line I was thinking this was something out of Orange is the New Black. Those spoons can become shivs quite easily.
ReplyDeleteI hate to keep pointing fingers, but I have been a dog owner, are you sure your sweet sweet Juno is innocent. We always blamed the dog for farts, maybe they like spoons also.
ReplyDeleteThey gave you a TOUR before they locked you up? What were you in for?
ReplyDeleteBefore I finished the post, I thought maybe your garlic bread over-browned, possibly due to wayward envelopes. When my kids were teenagers, I lost a lot of spoons. So many, in fact, that I bought a whole lot of spares. Silly me - didn't think to look in the yard.
ReplyDeleteWow! Sioux has the best comment. I, for one strange moment in time, am speechless.
ReplyDeleteStephen,
ReplyDeleteMaybe Genius didn't throw away my plastic forks! Maybe he took them back to college to give to prisoners for shiv-crafting. Two of his three suite-mates last year ended up in the slammer one weekend over some late-night shenanigans. Genius and the remaining freebird had to take them underwear and socks, freshly bought, in the package, so they would not be billed for prison-issue "whites." See? I even know the lingo. I suppose a spoon is too difficult for short-timers to make shiv-worthy.
*****
joeh,
My sweet, sweet Juno does have a fondness for all things chewable. She even picks up the lava rocks in Hick's rock garden and takes some into her house. She's not so good at opening a people-door, though. So it is highly unlikely that she got her lips on my spoon.
*****
Sioux,
For about an hour...
...in an interview where I had to put my purse through the scanner thingy, and leave it behind, and be forewarned that if something went down, they needed my ID to identify me. Oh, and if I was hired for the job, each day I would be deep in the bowels of the prison, after passing through about 15 doors that would lock behind me, which would not be opened if a riot occurred, except when order was restored.
But yes, they gave me a tour. With prisoners and all, no barrier between us. It was at the then-death-row prison, maximum security, but the main part of my tour was the 90-day shock treatment facility.
I think I scared them more than they scared me.
*****
Tammy,
My garlic bread was perfect. I might just leave that envelope back there. As for the yard spoons, get yourself a metal detector. You might find them yet.
******
Catalyst,
You'll only encourage her! And let the record show that Sioux was almost bounced from the gas station chicken store for acting suspiciously in front of the chicken counter. If you call it acting.
OMG what did you do? Were you on a Scared Straight tour, before heading to reform school? good thing you got on the right track, now track down the perp who dropped the spoon.
ReplyDeleteLinda,
ReplyDeleteLet the record show that Val has only been apprehended six times by law enforcement, and furthermore, has only taken one polygraph.
Val's investigations have not been very illuminating lately, as the next post will show.
My eating utensils are also fleeing my house.
ReplyDeleteSomewhere, there's a raucous party hosted by missing silverware and dryer socks.
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