Two Sizes Too Small

or
It's All Zoomer's Fault
She kindly didn't ask, so I rudely never mentioned that I couldn't answer the phone, because I was up to my elbows in wet, brined roosters chicken pieces.  I knew as soon as I got some of that into the crockpot and the rest into the freezer, I had to get the dough made for rolls, or our dinner wouldn't be complete.  On this frosty, windy day, I rigged a lofty stand atop the woodstove and set the dough to rise, before I returned Zoomer's call.

Well, we hadn't talked voice-to-voice in a long while, and I've been largely email-absent in recent weeks, so we had some catching up to do.  Even so, while we talked, I thought to check on my dough, which had risen posthaste, and I'd nearly baked the stuff in the bowl, because it was entirely too hot on its makeshift perch.  In fact, some of it was baked to the side of the bowl, but I never uttered a peep about that and just punched the stuff down, turned it out and smashed it flat, then used the only cutter I could quickly find, as I rummaged through the little drawer with my one free hand.  Abused dough and phone call or no, we were going to have rolls for dinner.

Same free hand reached into the bakeware cabinet above my head and pulled out what I thought was the new cookie sheet — you know the one I bought, not when my tape measure failed me, but when I should have been paying attention to interior dimensions as well as exterior, as I chose a replacement for my croaked oven.  Who knew some manufacturers make really thick oven walls, and a girl won't have a roaster, cookie sheet, or cake pan that fits in her new oven?  Really big oopsie.  I also didn't know someone had put that huge cookie sheet back in the bakeware cabinet, after I'd assigned it a new home with the grillware.

Still talking and listening, I managed to prepare a sheet and a pan of rolls and set them, this time, beside the woodstove to (hopefully) rise again.  Hey, I'm pretty good.  I got all this done, and Zoomer never even knew I was on my feet, much less being QueenKitchen, as we talked.

Off the phone and with the passing of more time, I checked on my rolls, and as I lifted the previously damp towel, I realized I hadn't thought to brush the tops with butter before I tucked the phone beneath my chin and shrouded the pans.  Now I had cotton toweling stuck to my dinner rolls.  Only two collapsed as I gingerly coaxed the cloth from the dough, and even they perked up a bit while waiting for the oven to heat.

I was on the march to the kitchen with my sheet of rolls when I finally noticed what pan was in my hands.  No.  Uh-uh.  This didn't happen.  And I held the pan before the oven, hoping I was imagining things.

Not.

Well, it'll either work or it won't, and there's no turning back now.


Know what?  It worked.  But if it hadn't, it would have been all Zoomer's fault!


When pride cometh, then cometh shame: but with the lowly is wisdom.  ~Proverbs 11:2