I'm back from my lunch with friends via a small farming community two hours south of here. We had picked up our pounds of food and were eating lunch in a small restaurant down the road, when the waitress asked, "So where are you ladies heading today?"
"Home to Chicago," we reply.
"Oh, where had you been?"
"Dwight, for forty-five minutes or so,"
"Dwight?" she repeats. Another pause. "Why?" she adds, clearly baffled by the conversation. So we try to explain about bags of wheat and lunches with friends and four hours in the car minus children. She gave us a strained smile and walked away shaking her head. I guess women stopping through on their trip to bring home bags of wheat doesn't happen everyday.
We made it back and we are set for winter. (I feel vaguely like a homesteader when I say that.) I brought home 200 pounds of wheat berries, 50 pounds of rolled oats, 50 pounds of cane sugar, 8 pounds of dry milk, 6 pounds of cocoa powder, 10 pounds of sea salt, 5 pounds of baking powder, 1 pound of ground cinnamon, and 1 pound of dehydrated chopped onions. There was also some yeast and other bread baking ingredients thrown in as well.
And now I'm realizing that since I was out gathering the bulk order, there is not really time left in the day for the further gathering of weekly groceries. Three hundred plus pounds of food later and I still don't know what we're having for dinner. It is now time to go downstairs and do some hunting in the freezers, because I don't think everyone will be on board with my Plan A for dinner, which would be to skip it.
Meanwhile back at the ranch while I was doing my hunting and gathering routine, this was happening.
Much Mario Karting with friends.