Merry Christmas Myrna


By Amy Bazuin-Yoder, Ph.D.


8 yoderIt is three days before Christmas and my Rhodesian Ridgeback, General Custard, is on high alert. Even with my kitchen windows mostly closed on account of the chill, and pie season over, I can just sense Myrna sneaking around the corner of the house, honing in on the secret scent of my molasses ginger crinkle cookies. You can just bet and win a bucket full if you say so.  Just like we all know, Myrna was not really the pie Queen of the Seeley County Fair this 2012 year of our Lord.

I have known a lot of things in my time but, Myrna, I am still plum struck that you stole my Grammy’s recipe right off that always glowing, always sunny, windowsill to the right of the kitchen sink this past August right before the Fallbridge County Fair.

I can’t blame General Custard just because he, in his 14 years of sentry duty, decided to fall asleep in the late afternoon sunshine instead of guarding the secrets of Grammy’s lemon meringue pie recipe. No Myrna, while Grammy herself, all 98 years of her and 4 feet 8 inches, was putting that freshly-made and just tempting to be eaten lemon meringue pie into the oven across the kitchen, baking it to be just a wee bit warm and sticky just the way the pie judges like it, you just sidled on up to the kitchen window that was wide open in the late summer heat and you let that tattered, well-loved recipe card slide sweetly into your purse.

And Myrna, shame on you for denying it when you know I saw you galloping with your flabby arms all the way back across the field to your shabby little shack of a house, all the while waving that card like a flag of victory. Grammy isn’t keen of sight anymore, but I can see just fine. So you’d best watch your backside Myrna, cause I am onto you. When General Custard gives me a wag of a signal today as soon as your despicable wrinkly little wrist wraps around the corner of the window and starts to caress my crinkle cookie recipe card, just who do you think is going to need to do some explaining when that cast iron skillet just happens to come down right where it belongs?

So think twice Myrna, cause my Christmas gift to Grammy is going to be getting your blue-ribboned butt back.


Dr. Amy Bazuin Yoder, author, educator and academic researcher, explores the nuances of human behavior through formal inquiry, family, and creative writing.

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