Yesterday Jody over at The Paw Paw Patch wrote a blog entry about a monster parsnip she grew in her garden and the fear it struck in the heart of one of her co-workers.
It reminded me of an incident that happened when we owned the restaurant.
We used a lot of carrots. They were ordered from a food service company and every now and then we would get ones that were so unnaturally large that we dubbed them "killer carrots."
In the summer when we were the busiest, we always needed extra help in the kitchen in the morning to get fresh food prepped for the day. Our daughter (Chicken Mama), when she was home from college, worked primarily the diningroom as a waitress but this particular morning I had snagged her for some help in the kitchen before we opened.
During the busiest of times, Roy frequently worked out front as host, greeting people as they came in, chatting with them while they waited for a table, then seating them and often checking them out at the cash register when they left.
The night previous to this incident had been extremely busy, Roy had been working out front and Chicken Mama had been one of the wait staff on duty.
The following morning there were probably about four or five of us in the kitchen busily working. Roy came into the kitchen to ask Chicken Mama about something that had transpired out front the night before. I can't remember what the gist of the conversation was but they soon had a lively banter going back and forth, disagreeing about what the circumstances had been. They were standing about ten apart from each other engaged in animated conversation (disagreement?) with all of us in the kitchen half listening in on their chatter.
Chicken Mama happened to have a very large "killer carrot" in her hand, and while holding the narrow end of the carrot, shook her hand (and the carrot) at her dad trying to make her point.
In mid-sentence, the carrot snapped in half, the thick end went sailing across the room and hit Roy smack between the eyes knocking his glasses off which went skittering across the kitchen floor. Everyone in the room stopped as if frozen in a game of "Statues." Roy and Chicken Mama both had the same open-mouthed, stunned look on their face. Several seconds passed before finally someone couldn't hold it in any longer and let out a snorting laugh which released the tension and we rushed to pick Roy up off the floor. (Just kidding!)
All turned out well as not even his glasses were damaged but you can believe that whenever Roy sees an over-sized carrot, he turns and runs the other way. A man can't be too careful when it comes to killer carrots.
the quotidian (6.26.17)
7 hours ago