weather radar: Harshing my Mallow

I'd like to think I'm a good person . . . do unto others yada yada yada. Yeah well, sometimes it doesn't work out that way. Especially, when beer, camping and marshmallows enter the equation.

I know, all those things go together perfectly. So what could possibly make that seemingly ideal combination make me into less than a good person? A little girl. That's right, I said it . . . a little girl . . . toasting a marshmallow over a crackling fire. She seemed so innocent with her puff of sugary goodness impaled on the end of a stick . . . holding it carefully over a wisp of flame . . . toasting it just so . . . turning it evenly so that it turned a luscious shade of golden brown without even the slightest bit of char. It was truly of work of perfection . . . damn her and that exquisite sublimity poised in all its toasty goodness on the end of that stick.

So, this is what happened. She was sitting by the fire . . . acting all innocent like and fairly gloating about her perfect golden-brown marshmallow. She was all but screaming aloud that contained within that flawless crust was oozy, smooshy, gooey yumminess and that it was all hers.

I was sitting next to her . . . trying with all my might to ignore her blatantly flaunting the sweet treat. After what seemed like an eternity of her smugly waving that little bit of heaven around I couldn't take it any more. I reached over and snatched that amazing little nubbin of nomminess and stuffed it into my mouth. I couldn't help it . . . if she hadn't been so damned vainglorious I might have been able to control myself.

Yep, it happened just like that. Okay . . . maybe not quite just like that.

It's true the little girl had toasted a marshmallow to absolute perfection. And she was, indeed, sitting next to me in front of a cozy fire. It might be a slight exaggeration that she was flaunting it. However, it's also true that I plucked that little treat right off the top of the stick and shoved it into my mouth. It's is true, as well, that I couldn't control myself. Did I mention the copious quantities of beer I had consumed leading up to the less that gracious act? No? Hmm . . . silly me.

All I know is that I immediately regretted that moment of impulsive weakness. Everyone around be stared at me in utter disbelief. I was mortified. I'm just glad she didn't cry.

But that was the bestest freaking marshmallow I ever had! And, I don't even really like marshmallows. Go figure.

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Rhubarb, Apple and Strawberry Pie

1 Cup White Sugar
1/2 Cup All-Purpose Flour
1/2 Pound Fresh Rhubarb, Chopped
2 Small Apples, Peeled And Diced
2 Pints Fresh Strawberries
1 Recipe Pastry For A 9 Inch Double Crust Pie
2 Tablespoons Butter
1 Egg Yolk
2 Tablespoons White Sugar

Preheat oven to 400 degrees F

In a large bowl, mix flour and sugar. Add strawberries and chopped rhubarb. Toss with sugar and flour and let stand for 30 minutes.