We've been getting to know each other, bit by bit.
We watched a performance of Hamlet together with Brenda--our mutual connection--and I enjoyed our conversation during the interval.
But this weekend a quiver ran through our budding friendship when she sent home a "gift" with Brenda.
"Mom," Brenda said, proffering a plastic bag of fermenting goop.
Hesitating (as she should have,) she said, "Tina sent you this."
And dropping it on the counter, she beat a hasty retreat. It was not lost on me that she didn't come home with a bag for herself (being gluten intolerant has its blessings!)
"Aaaargh! NO! The curse of the Amish Friendship Bread! What friend gives you this?" I sighed.
It seems only yesterday that I finally gave up the endless cycle with my last batch and allowed it to die. This one comes with instructions that end with the ominous sentence: "Only the Amish know how to create the starter, so if you give them all away, you will have to wait until someone gives you some back."
Sorry, I have to go and check my bag. I think I may have to feed The Blob tonight.
And what's that sound? It's running feet--my friends are scattering. :)