The Time I Accidentally Bought 25 Pounds of Flour is a laughable memory. Let me begin my story by sharing the backstory. During the recent pandemic, I thought I was getting a great price for a bag of flour. My same-day grocery store had flour in stock and my regular store was out of stock. Because I placed my order online, I was unaware of the physical size of the flour bag.
(image: Unsplash)
The price for Miller Milling All Purpose Flour seemed great at $9.35. Until the delivery arrived to my front porch. As my husband carried in the groceries, I heard a snickering laugh. And then with amusement, we both realize what I had done. In “saving money” I accidentally purchased a 25 pound bag of flour! Restaurant quality.
This became a challenging problem for two reasons. First, the 25 pound bag of flour was too large for my kitchen cabinets. What will I do with this beast? Second, we were in a quarantine and unable to entertain people at home. And so I needed to be creative with my 25 pound blunder.
Looking through my same-day bargains, I found 500 food prep gloves. It seemed they would now come in handy. Slipping my triple washed hands into the food gloves, I divided up my flour into gallon bags. Then I started asking neighbors if they need a bag of flour. Many said yes!
Wearing my protective face gear and putting food gloves on my hands, I carefully placed bags of flour on their porches. Then I sent everyone a text message and identified the white powder in the bag. Embarrassing, as I was just trying to solve a storage problem.
Two days later, I get a text from a neighbor. “We made cinnamon rolls today, do you want some?” Of course, I said yes!
One more day, another neighbor. “We made lemon scones today, can I put some in your mailbox?” Well, yes!
At this point I no longer had self-control over gluten (and inflammation). Pandemics will do this, I have since learned.
Soon I found myself baking my “pandemic bread” and delivering loaves to my neighbors. After a tree fell in a storm, I put pandemic bread on their porch. During a 2-day power outage, I delivered pandemic bread (baked in advance) to every neighbor for breakfast.
And when my college kid was driving back to her dorm, I placed three pandemic breads into her care package. According to her roomies, the home-baked bread was “fantastic!”
(image: Christine Abraham)
It was madness, this gift of bread!
When a neighbor called me “Florence Nightingale” for delivering bread to people in a storm, I knew I needed to stop. My reputation was exceeding my desire to make any more bread! And the gluten inflammation was making me swell up like a blowfish.
Finally, six months later, I used up my 25 pounds of flour. And so I humbled myself and bought a small 5 pound bag for my cupboard. Life seems to be returning to normal, again.
Haha. Reminds me of Matthew from Anne of Green Gables. Marilla snickered, “25 lbs of brown sugar.” Love you so Christine!
Thank you for sharing this memory with me. Love you too my friend!