It was a beautiful Easter. The weather was perfect. The flowers were blooming. The Easter egg hunt was a success. We even saw twenty seven frogs in the frog pond at a local children's garden. Everything was just marvelous, until the ham incident.
Let me back up for a moment and share another story about ham. This one goes back about nine years, when I was a newly wed, attempting to make an Easter ham for the family. I read the cookbook, carefully following the directions . The glaze on the ham looked lovely. I put it in the oven. When the timer went off, I took it out. I sliced it. My husband came in and looked at it. "Honey, did you forget to take off the wrapper?" Yep. That was nine years ago.
I seem to have problems with ham. Maybe it's because I only make it once a year, and need more practice. So this evening, I pulled the ham out of the oven and put it on the cutting board. It sat there a few minutes while I prepared the other dishes. I returned to the ham, and not thinking, picked up the hot roasting pan with my bare hands. Ouch! That was painful! Just what I needed after singing my arm hairs making Easter eggs yesterday!
So much for a perfect ending.
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