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… you might be a redneck.  Feel free to use that, Jeff Foxworthy.

I completed my Christmas grocery shopping almost two weeks ago. True, I forgot to buy baking soda and had to fake my way through a poppyseed bread recipe (and then burned it. And then proceeded to send it to my sisters anyway because I didn’t want to go back to the grocery store).

But then I realized I didn’t have dinner rolls. Since I had to go to the store, I thought I’d grab some baking soda so that perhaps my next batch of bread wouldn’t end up in a Facebook Hall of Shame meme.

The instant I signed off work, I went to the little local store near my house. I hate that store. They don’t have anything I want – no organic section, a limited fresh produce section – and it is impossible to find an employee who knows where they are, much less the location of something as simple as … dinner rolls. But  I finally found an employee and asked, because I couldn’t find them in the bread aisle or by the bakery. She told me they were in Aisle 9, so I went back to Aisle 9 – the bread aisle. I searched again, though. All I could find that was even sort of similar to a roll was a shelf of hamburger buns. Of course! Redneck bread rolls! I should have known.

I left that store and went across town to the HyVee that I adore, even though it is still under construction. I found the dinner rolls, got extra ingredients for the bread and drove home.

I unloaded the groceries…

No baking soda.

I quit.

 

 

 

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