So, it's another indoor day, spent driving a water taxi in San Francisco Bay courtesy of the Ship Simulator 2008 program, and flying hard IFR from Wright-Patterson AFB to Rickenbacker International in a Siai-Marchetti SF-260 courtesy of the Microsoft Flight Simulator. There was also a little gluing work to do on the P-51, and there should be a great, hard-hitting football game on tonight when Pittsburgh attempts to end the dream for the scrappy Baltimore Browns. (Yes, I know.)
I thought it to be perfect conditions for a nice, hearty dinner tonight, so dug out some frozen chicken, and collection of veggies, and the slow cooker. My idea was to cook up a nice crock of Chicken & Dumplings. I don't make dumplings very often (as we'll see), but I do remember that the baking powder has to be relatively fresh or the dumplings will sit there like lumps of library paste. I diligently checked the expiration date on the bottom of the can: Oct 2004. Well, that's right out, isn't it. Useless. To the trash bin with it, post haste.
Co-pilot Egg was conveniently lounging on the sofa, spending her day working through some of the classic movies that she grew up with. There was Aladdin, there was Toy Story, and who knows what else. That level of ostentatious comfort is irresistible to me: she was given the assignment to call a neighbor to ask to borrow some baking powder of a more recent vintage and go pick it up. Unfortunately, I did not monitor the call, a failure that she shamelessly took advantage of by accepting their offer to deliver it right to the front door. Now me, I'm a firm believer that if you want to borrow it, you ought go pick it up yourself. (Shut up, Rick.) Sensing a parental opportunity, I berated her for her insensitivity.
But hey, no biggy: the neighbor has a nice rental while their car is in the shop and professes to have enjoyed the chance to drive it, albeit for only about a quarter mile. Win-win for everyone involved, right? Well, almost. The thing is, when I checked the expiration on the borrowed baking powder I found a date of May, 1990. It's fourteen years older than the stuff I had thrown away. Three years older than their eldest child. Longer than I've been married. In fact, it's old enough to vote.
We're having Chicken & Noodles for dinner.
After which, Ms. Egg will be returning the baking powder.