Write at the Merge: A Different Flavor

Edith felt like singing.  It was good to be home, she rejoiced.  Safe in the bosom of her tiny apartment.  After the events of the evening, it simply wasn’t possible to overstate the relief she felt at being back in familiar surroundings. 

Ethyl’s invitation of a week ago, asking Edith to attend a party she was hosting in honor of Olive, the bride-to-be, sounded exactly like Edith’s cup of tea.  A recipe exchange, from the description of it, featuring a dish called beef cake.  Edith enjoyed recipe exchanges, and considered herself to be something of an expert in the kitchen.  She would take along her metal recipe box, she decided, with plenty of blank recipe cards in case some of the other girls forgot to bring their own. 

As the party got underway, though, it became apparent to Edith that she alone had come prepared to discuss ingredients and cooking tips.  Furthermore, when Edith cleared her throat and practically shouted above the din of living room conversation to inquire whether beef cake should be filed under Main Dishes or Desserts, she hadn’t expected everyone to find her question so uproariously funny.  Thankfully, for red-faced Edith, hoots and whistles trumped laughter as the spotlight shifted away from her and onto the newest arrival-a young man dressed in a modest piece of fur and beating wildly on his chest.  And what a chest!  Inexplicably, Edith realized she was growling.

Yes, it was good to be home, and a batch of butterscotch brownies would be just the ticket for blotting out all disquieting memories of the party. Besides, Roscoe liked butterscotch brownies.  Dear, steady, dependable Roscoe-promising Edith a secure future with his full-time job as a revolving closet salesman.  She really should thank her lucky stars…

As she reached for her recipe box, her mind began to wander-leopard clad thoughts wrapping themselves in tantalizing visions of Tarzan.  So masculine.  So wild and untamed.  And so unlike Roscoe.  She felt guilty, but she couldn’t help herself-and her fingers, poised over the neat bundles of categorized recipes, ignored Cookies and found the blank cards instead. 

Beef Cake.  She just might need to expand her repertoire.

 

 

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