My sister’s Californian roots are showing. She thought the responsible thing to do, being married to a doctor and all, is to eat a more natural, “healthy” diet.
The girls and I were visiting her today when Jeannie invited me into the kitchen to taste her newest healthy creation.
“What is it?” I asked, not really enjoying the sight before me. In a flat baking pan was this brown dog-poop looking pastry. At first I thought she had found a better way to make brown sugar cookie squares. But, no.
NEVER EVER TRY ANYTHING NEW WHEN YOU ARE THE ONE HAVING THE FIRST BITE.
It was flax bread. You know, flax? What they spin to make linen from? Flax.
But Jeannie is my sister, and sisterhood trumps common sense. So I took a bite of the piece she cut for me.
I’d rather graze from the south pasture where the cattle are right now than to ever taste anything made out of flax again.
Jeannie watched me with a puzzled expression as my face went from curious to disgusted to murderous.
“You’re gonna die, sis!” I swear that was the nastiest thing I ever put in my mouth.
Lorrie told me later that when she and Mel and Teddy were out playing and I was watching them, Jeannie carried something out to the garbage can and dumped the whole thing in, baking sheet and all.