People ARE Strange…

… and I may be stranger.

Saturday our Stake put on an Emergency Preparedness and Food Storage Fair that was open to the public and members alike. Somehow I ended up with holding the ball for what our ward was responsible for a had to drag my sorry, lazy biscuits out of bed at 7:00 am (there was a thunderstorm that morning so I really, really wanted to stay in bed and listen to the rain beating down on the rooftop and cracks of pane-rattling thunder). Communication was amiss, what I had been told didn’t match what was asked and expected of “us”. Usually I would freak-out and make the best of it no matter how horrible the outcome or inflamed my ulcers would get, but this time I coughed up some courage and said - are you ready for it - “No, I’m not doing that.” Mind you lightening was striking all around, yet I was not turned into a pile of ash for such blasphemy.

Our ward was assigned to make whole, hard white wheat bread for a tasters table and giving a 15 min. presentation on 72hr. kits every hour on the hour for the entire fair. That would be the part that I said no to. I baked some bread that didn’t turn out so yummy but people at it anyway; lots of butter and jam can hide almost all bread-making sins.

So the fair has started and people are milling around the different booths and trickling to the tasters table. Most were very nice, got their slice and left. Others well…

One lady was quite irate, accusing me of not using the jam from the cannery because cannery jam is gross and does not look like the jam I had out on the table.

“I took it straight from the can here and just stirred it up a bit.” Apparently she wasn’t a rocket scientist and putting two and two together was beyond her scope of mental capabilities.

“I bought an entire case of strawberry jam from the cannery and it was all bad. Can you give me a refund for those cans? It’s not good and I want my money back.”

Was I wearing a badge that read Church Cannery Refund Officer? Did I look like I was solely responsible for all jam ever canned by the Church? “I’m sorry you got bad jam, maybe you should talk with the cannery.”

She continued to go on and on about it and I continued to ignore her by answering or thanking tasters that were behind her. Finally she got the hint, tossed one more jamming insult and left. Heaven help the water storage station, she probably had funny tasting water at some point in her life and they were responsible for that too.

Then there were the people who asked if this was stone ground wheat and then proceed to tell me how stone ground is much better than any other type of grinding besides getting a mortar and pistil and doing it yourself one handful at a time before I could utter a pathetic “I don’t know.”

There were those who asked for the nutritional value of the bread, how many loaves would a can of wheat make and other good questions that I had no clue how to answer. Just bake bread, bring it, smile and point out that it was made with food storage wheat – that was my job, nothing less and definitely nothing more.

Anyway, the experience at the fair and my peach canning frenzy has reserved my hard, wood planked seat on the food storage bandwagon. My lesson for family home evening was about being like squirrels, gathering nuts for the winter, to which Miss Is replied, “That would hurt our hands and our knees if we acted like squirrels all the time.” And D.J. asked, “Won’t we be fat and sleep all the day long?” My analogy didn’t stick quite like I had wanted it to.

I’m learning that Wal-mart price matches and that if you’re watchful enough and have the competitors ad in hand, you can save just as much as clipping coupons and pillaging Albertsons. That might be a good thing for me since I don’t get the paper anymore. Wish me luck, I just might be ranked right up there with the bad jam lady.

Labels: Faith, Random Thoughts