Let’s back up a bit.
Last week I flew to Seattle to help my sister Heather move here to Boise. Yay!!! We spent days packing, boxing and bubble wrapping while listening to early 2000’s R&B. It was glorious. Then the night before the move Heather’s husband declared that keeping anything from the fridge would be completely disgusting. So we gathered it all up to give or throw away.
Heather has a neighbor who is probably the sweetest person on planet Earth. She’s Mexican-American and from everything I’ve heard from Heather she couldn’t have asked for a better neighbor. We decided we’d take all the non mystery-meat fridge food to this neighbor, Josi, to see if she wanted anything. There was good stuff in there! Salad dressings, cheese, olives…. tortillas.
“Josi was telling me how it drives her crazy when people assume she makes great Mexican food and asks her to bring it to parties,” Heather told me upon seeing the tortillas. “For a church function, the Relief Society president asked her to bring homemade tortillas and it really bugged her!” Apparently Josi does make incredible homemade tortillas, but the assumption is still irritating/racist. Then she told me a story how at a “favorite things” party at church Josi happened to open up a bag of tortillas that someone else brought and everyone (except Josi) thought it was hysterical.
So after hearing these stories I gather up two half gallons of milk, bags of cheese, some bottles and a bag of tortillas in my arms and we start walking down the street in the dark. We ring the doorbell and knock on the door but no one is home, so we head back to Heather’s. When we get close to Heather’s house I look down and my tortilla bag is upside-down and empty.
“What happened to the tortillas?!”- Me.
“Oh my gosh! I heard something fall on the doorstep but my arms were so full I couldn’t see anything and the bag of tortillas was still in your arms so I thought we were fine!”- Heather.
“You mean to tell me, we just dropped a bag of tortillas on your Mexican neighbor’s doorstep and ran?”- Me (through fits of horrified laughter.)
At this point we’re about to pee our pants from laughing so hard and our arms are still full of food.
We decide to go back into Heather’s house to unload our arms and then go back and get the tortillas off the doorstep.
We make it back to Josi’s house and upon seeing tortillas spread all over the front porch we erupt into more pee-inducing laughter. (We’ve both had 3 kids, laughing must be done cross-legged.) So we rush up to destroy the evidence and just as we’re bent over picking up the mess we see a car round the corner and suddenly we’re blinded by headlights.
“What are you guys doing?” – Sweet Josi.
I don’t know if I still thought it was funny or if I was so horrified I couldn’t control my emotions but I could still barely talk. I could see how this looked!
“We were bringing over armfuls of food from the fridge and we dropped tortillas on your doorstep!”- Heather.
(We had no armfuls of food.)
“You dropped tortillas on my doorstep?”- Sweet Josi asks doubtfully.
I finally compose myself enough to explain that we DID have armfuls of food and only noticed the tortillas were missing when we got back to Heather’s…. this is not looking good for us! Suddenly I feel like we’re on an episode of Seinfeld or Modern Family!
We could only explain ourselves and hope Sweet Josi bought our story but what are the odds people!?
I guess maybe it’s a good thing Heather moved? She might have potatoes hurled at her house next week.