My dad is funny. He's always had a sense of humor. Oddly enough, no one really thinks he's that funny unless he's not trying to be funny. I've spent many hours, along with my sister Jana, making fun of my dad. I thoroughly enjoy the look he gives us when he catches on to what we're doing. It's the look that says "why i oughtta" combined with a Joaquin Phoenix stunned amusement that we are actually finding what he is doing funny.
The other day, I emailed my dad about my food storage. I have cans of that stupid wheat that has never been ground. I'm the first to admit I don't have many cooking skills but I'm fairly certain you can't just dump the wheat in some recipe without grinding it. My parents have one of those vintage wheat grinders. It's one of the things I remember from my childhood. For some reason we were fascinated with it. We loved to watch the wheat funnel down into the box and then open the drawer and feel the fine wheat flour between our fingers. Clearly, we needed some better entertainment but it seemed to do the trick.
So Dad, I asked, have you gotten around to grinding that wheat? Now why would I ask my Dad to do it for me? My mom claims it's too complicated for me to do it myself but I'm pretty sure she just knows that it could end with wheat flour over her entire kitchen. She's one smart cookie, that mother o' mine.
But back to my dad. Here was his one liner response (quite possibly one of his best yet):
"I threw the wheat on the garage floor - it should be ground up in a couple weeks."