The Meat Roll Revisited

How does a person post with a misspelling in the TITLE? That’s a dumb person. I don’t know anyone that dumb and I’m glad. Since today’s theme is dumbness, here is a story:

There once was a girl,
who loved a meat roll.
Sixteen years passed and she didn’t see that meat roll that whole time.
She missed it.
And one day, she decided that enough time had gone by. So she squinted and frowned over a dingy digital photo of her meat roll recipe, which truthfully she was just thankful to have. And she went to the store without making a list of the things on that recipe photo. Most people would view that as a mistake. She would, too, when she got home and started to brown her ground beef and realized that she didn’t have an ingredient. It was just a small ingredient. Maybe she could get by without it. It was just the french loaf. Just the ROLL portion of the meat roll. Idiot girl. Does she own a pencil and a pad of paper? Yes, she does. She just isn’t a frequent user of such.

So she talked her feverish son into going back to the store, again, for that final, rather important ingredient.

And she made the meat roll. With the right amount of beef. It rolled just fine.
And she blew a tender kiss to her meat roll and said, “See you at dinner!”

The End.

I had to call Todd for a cooking question. There are so many unfortunate things wrapped up in that fact that I have decided not to address any of them. I will make a couple of observations about the meat rolling process:

1. It is harder to roll a meat roll with a 4-yr-old than it is to do it alone. Though I was not good alone, I am practically disabled with the help of short people.
2. I do not understand why you have to buy enough flat leaf parsley to sod your front yard just to have one tablespoon for a meat roll. This makes no sense to me. I know it was only 99 cents. But how ’bout let me pay a dime for a smidge, you know? This bushel could have clothed Adam AND Eve.
3. You know how a 20-yr-old college guy acts when you hand him a naked baby? That’s me with dough. Or spices. Or parsley. I hold it out away from my body like it’s going to wet me. I am completely out of my element. I have sympathy for those frat boy babysitters. But I wouldn’t hire them to sit for my kids any more than I’d hire me to cook for anyone.
4. Is this Doll Week? You wouldn’t know it by this post.

Would you like to come over for dinner? It’s a meat roll. We’ll make sure there’s no hair on it. Mmm.

The End. Actually.