December 28th, 2009 | 12 Comments »

This holiday season, I did most of my shopping without going into an actual store. Most. Stocking stuffers require one to hold actual merchandise and pay for it with cash type of money or debit.

I have a friend in Maine, and she agreed to allow my orders to ship (free!) to her, and she would ship those orders on to me. I would pay the postage from Maine to here.

She’s also a twitter friend, and when I opened my twitter feed one day in November, found an excited tweet from her. Seems it was her birthday, and some secret admirer has sent her a copy of the The Pioneer Woman Cooks as a birthday surprise.

I had ordered the book for a local foodie friend for Christmas, because although she has gluten and dairy issues, she loves herself a cookbook. In fact, she has many of them, and now adapts her recipes.

I couldn’t yank her birthday surprise out from under her, because why would I even do that? So I looked to a local artist to order a replacement gift. Only, guess what? The replacement gift didn’t arrive in time. The lovely artist, Shelagh Duffet, offered one of her prints (free!) so I would have something to present on the big day.

I agreed, with the proviso that she sign the print thusly: “Shelagh Duffet, Famous International Artist Who Lives Nearby”, which she agreed to do. I armed myself with a boatload of hand sanitizer to meet up with her in a newly opened cafe, where we had a lovely chat and sampled the goodies from the cafe. The lemon scones made me all happy in my mouth. The conversation made me happy in the brain, and all was right with the world.

When I presented my friend with her prezzie, I told her the story, and she agreed, it was pretty funny.

But? There’s still a space on her kitchen bookshelf where a certain cookbook needs to reside. And? It’s on sale at a ridiculous price now.

Posted in down home, fustercluck