Off to the Bakery

I was being such a good girl, too!

I’d left the house at 10:15 without breakfast and was meeting Karen at the bakery at 10:30. I’d get them to make me some toast there, I figured. Wouldn’t ya know it, they don’t make toast, I learned. So I bought a bottle of orange juice and sat down to wait for my sister. It was going to be a short visit because she wanted to get back to the farm to put lunch on and then was due at a friend’s place.

She had phoned around quarter-to-ten and I got to the bakery at 10:25 after a 15-minute drive to Main Street in town. You can guess the extent of my “get presentable” regimen. Thank goodness I’m not 19 anymore and don’t give a grand hoo-haw about curling my hair just-so (my hairdresser is rolling her eyes right now, aren’t you Sandy? but I really did do that once upon a time) or putting on makeup. I draw the line after washing up, brushing my teeth, and putting on clean clothes. Sometimes I don’t even remember to use a comb. I’m going to be one of those wild-haired crazy old crones one day, if I’m not already.

burning stubble

Someone’s burning stubble

As I was saying before I interrupted myself: I was so disciplined. I could’ve bought a doughnut or some other fancy pastry, but I didn’t. I sat there nobly sipping my orange juice, watching the news on an overhead TV, waiting for my sister who is often late.

When she arrived, what do you think she did? She went to the counter for her coffee, yes; that’s what we do. But what do you think she brought to the table when she came over? A bag of long johns and two boxes of cream puffs, which she proceeded to open up and offer to me and Lynette Z., who had joined us.

“They freeze well,” Karen said. “They’re for Dick’s lunches; that’s why I got so many. Help yourself!”

Well hey. You don’t pass up a cream puff from the Wadena Bakery. They are known and adored, far and wide, and often they’re all sold before you get there.

I did stop at one, though.

 

*New recipe added to the collection: Potato Pancakes

 

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