Today may well go down in infamy in our household. Not for disasters, but for some crazy mixed up hilarity. Not mine, though, unfortunately; my husband, Jon's and our dog, Jackson's. It all started off simple enough. Jon took the dog out while I showered, and then Jon and I walked to school. Jon headed to the grocery store near school, and I hunkered down in my office to try to get ahead on some paperwork. I chipped away at my pile of a to-do list and thought all was well, until I got a phone call, that is.
"Hey babe," my husband said, into his tiny €10 pre paid phone. "Did you move the laundry detergent?"
"Not that I recall," I reply, wondering what was going on.
"Ok, then maybe I left it downstairs last time I did laundry," Jon reasoned. Meanwhile I was still confused, because I thought we were signed up for laundry in the basement tomorrow. As I tried to ask him what was going on, he hunted for the soap and indeed found it in the basement.
"Well," Jon began to explain, "I'm sorry to call you with bad news, but after I gave the dog a bath this morning, I realized he had peed all over our bed. I think it must have been while I was walking you to work."
I tried to answer with the necessary sympathy and apologies, but Jon was intent on getting everything into the washer, and I did not want to discourage him on that, so we signed off and I went back to working on anything other than my project funding proposal with its impending deadline.
After about half an hour, my work cell rang again. "Hi hon," I said, happy to hear from him.
"Hi," he returned, in a strange voice. We had been debating on Gmail Messenger what might have made the dog mad, since that was his usual M.O. for such inappropriate urinating. But Jon's voice told me there was more to the story. "Guess what happened while I put the laundry in?"
"Keine ahnung," I rejoined, auf Deutsch, meaning I hadn't a clue.
"So Jackson ran away."
"Um, did you find him?" I quickly asked, with concern.
"Yes. He was downstairs at the front door of the apartment building," Jon assured me right away. "He's locked in the bathroom now with his food and water bowls."
I told Jon that I was glad the dog was okay, but that I was sorry he was being so punky. We decided he must have been mad that his morning walk wasn't longer, plus then the dog bath.
The two of them met me on my walk home, and we had a nice homemade dinner while Jackson pouted under the table. After dinner I decided to make Nutella brownies, and earlier Jon had bought flour at the grocery store. I melted some extra chocolate, but the Nutella was so sweet when I mixed it in that I had to add some peanut butter to cut all the sugar. I cooled the mixture a little while I whisked the eggs, and I mixed them carefully so as not to cook the eggs prematurely. But as I opened what we had thought was flour, my final ingredient, I became acutely aware that it was in fact cornmeal. We couldn't decide what was funnier, that Jon had mistaken the girl carrying stalks on the front of the bag for wheat but missed the boldly written "Korngold" directly above, or that we failed to notice until long after we were fully committed. If it weren't for the "Korngold," I don't think we would have had any way of knowing.
Now, Peanut Butter Nutella Corn Cakes do not sound amazing, but I put them in the oven anyway, amidst our gales of laughter. And I am hear to tell you, they are pretty damn tasty, especially when served warm with some vanilla bean ice cream. But if you know of any good recipes calling for cornmeal, please share!
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