Story of the Day 7/ 4/ 2014

We are a bit antiquated.
We have not managed to keep up with the technological revolution, despite owning cell phones, computers, laptops and an ancient gamecube.
In other words, we do not sit glued to our screens while we eat our separate meals,
instead, at dinnertime, and on weekends for lunch, and on holidays- which are like weekends,
we all sit down at the table, together, to eat.
There are plates, and napkins, and silverware.

There are glasses with ice water.
There is bread.
Usually.

On Friday, I bake bread.
Occasionally, I will bake it on another day as well, but I bake a couple of loaves of bread, every Friday, as part of preparing for Shabbat.
We enjoy it a great deal, on Friday evening. And on Saturday.
But, after a couple of days, no one will touch the "old bread".
They have been spoiled by having fresh bread, and by day 3 they consider it totally rank and devoid of charm.
All except my husband who has questionable tastes.
Obviously, since he married me.

My husband will soldier on, eating the 4 day old, and 5 day old and 6 day old bread, as the rest of us wince.
And sometimes I have made more bread than usual, or people have eaten less than usual,
and the old bread is hanging around past day 5.
Then, when he isn't looking, I will feed it to the squirrels.

It is summer, now.
You might have guessed that, because it is July 4th- Independence Day.
And, since it is a holiday, we all sat down to eat lunch together.
And my husband pulled out the 7 day old bread, the bread I had baked exactly a week ago.

He tears off a piece and eats some.
He puts the rest of the piece on his plate.
Then, he turn the bread over- the part of the loaf that is still in the bread box.
There is a spot of what is most indubitably mold on the bottom.
No surprise, really.
The bread is a week old.
And it is summer and it has been hot and humid
and the bread has been kept, when not having parts taken off it to eat, in a sealed box.

I tell him" Throw it out!"
Well, I didn't say that,
actually, I said " throw it to the squirrels!!"
After all, it was only small bit of mold.

My husband puts the bread into the box and sets it aside,
hopefully, to toss it out to the squirrels, later.
Then he picks up the piece that is on his plate,
and he eats it.

"Ewww!"
I can't help myself.
I mean, it is not as if we do not have enough food in the house to feed a small army- food that does not have mold growing on it.

My son, seated accross from me, adds,
"I would think it was funny, if I did not also think it was gross."