That flurried week before Christmas, Aaron was clutch. For those who don't work with teenagers, that means he came through. In a big way. I was stayin' up late and gettin' up early, burning that candle on both ends and in the middle. I was grumpy and stressed and knew that I had bought too much stock in the company of overachievement, but I was in too deep to pull out.
One of the many errands I send him on that week was to Woods' Grocery. "Three things, babe," I cried, in that tiny, whiny voice I slip into when I'm tired. "Flour. Honey. Powdered Sugar."
When he returned, my grocery-shopping knight, bearing gray plastic bags and his "I remembered everything and did it fast" grin, I dug out the honey, the flour, and oh my goodness, I-have-never-seen-this-much-powered-sugar-in-my-life. It was amazing. Overwhelming. A little terrifying.
Four pounds. Four pounds--sixty-four ounces--of white, powdery sugar. If you don't bake, this might not mean much. Let me help you visualize:
Powdered sugar comes in 1 lb. boxes.
Or in 2 lb. bags. Which is usually what I buy, because that's how Aldi sells it, and it's cheapest at Aldi. 2 pounds lasts aaaaaaawhile.
But a four pound bag! It's enough to cover our back yard in fake snow! Maybe not, but then again, maybe!
"You got the FOUR POUND bag?" I crowed. I am such a gracious, thankful wife. If anyone would like lessons, Facebook me or something.
"Was this all they had?"
And this, this is what my husband replied.
"Well, I don't know. There were so many white things on that aisle."
Priceless. I already love having the four pound bag of powdered sugar, I can tell you that. It's a life-changer. For one, if there is a huge blizzard and we get stuck in the house, we will not starve. For two, if the blizzard never comes, we can have frosting whenever we want. Let me repeat that. Whenever. We. Want.
Yeah, you want the four pound bag now, too, don't you?