Monday, June 4, 2012

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Baker's Secret

Jam was only a little bit bad.  It was only one little paw on the seat.  What did one paw mean in the grand 

Jam in the front seat with one paw on the seat.
scheme of things? Really? OK.  One paw is the start of a long slide into juvenile delinquency.  I know, I know.  It must be stopped.

So, Jam was not allowed to leave that little paw up on the seat.

It's all about consistency and as you may remember, Jam is nothing if not stubborn.  The paw and front seat fight is a silent battle we have been fighting for months.  He will get in and turn around and then right as I am about to sit down, sneak a paw up on the chair.

There!  One paw.  One small paw.  It's not even comfortable.  But he's touching it.  Look, he's touching it.

He's just waiting for me to cave and say, "Fine, leave your paw up there.  Just sit up there, I don't care. Whatever."  But I never do."  Poor Jam.  I'm just as stubborn.

On Sunday, after I got back from graduation, Fred asked me if I would do him a favor.  I was reading, so this favor asking was a bit of an annoyance, but I knew that Fred was working upstairs on the door to the bathroom and that I was basically sitting on my butt doing nothing and saying no was not very nice.  I said I would help.

Fred was baking bread and he is REALLY into baking bread.  He started to tell me about to what temperature the oven needed to be preheated and that he had the timer started and that it needed to go to 450 degrees and then I needed to remove the wax paper (the dough was rising) and put it in the oven.

I waited and the timer went off.  340 degrees.  Poo.  I set the timer again.

Ding.  370 degrees.  Double poo.  This new oven is a sloth.  It takes forever to heat up.  I checked the loaf of bread.  It was rising.  I put the wax paper back down.  I considered just putting it in the oven.  But NO, that would be wrong.  So, I set the timer again, and I ran upstairs to change into shorts and a t-shirt. Now, usually when I run upstairs for anything, I have a shadow.  But this time, I ran and I didn't have a shadow.  But I also had 2 and a half minutes to change and get back downstairs.  What could possibly go wrong?

I came back down and the oven was at 450 degrees.  Hooray!  Finally.  I could put the rotten loaf in the oven.  Then I noticed the wax paper.  It was twisted off the loaf.  That's odd.

Then I looked at the loaf.

Horrors!  Someone had shoved their big fat nose right into the loaf!

The loaf with a big fat caved in spot on the right hand side where someone's nose was shoved in.

Who would do such a heinous thing?

Close up of Jam and his big nose.

Well, who has the biggest nose?  Jam. That's a Jam-sized nose print.

The nose bread in the oven baking.

 "Uh.  Fred!"


"Jam stuck his nose in the bread!"


"Jam stuck his nose in the bread!"

"How did that happen?"

"Uh. I went to get some shorts and a t-shirt and he just shoved his nose in the bread?"

Silence.  It was kind of a mad silence.

Close up of Jam and his big nose.

I decided that I should put the bread in the oven anyway. The other half was fine.  It didn't have a nose print in it at all!

Nose bread baked!

Fred ate some of the bread and he liked it.  He doesn't stay irritated very long.  After all, how many people have a Labrador for a baker's assistant?

Close up of Jam and his big nose.

1 comment:

  1. OMG, I couldn't stop laughing. I love, love, love reading your Jam stories!