As the World Churns

    
Panchsheel
Park
,
New Delhi
- 110 017, India Penguin Group (NZ),
67 Apollo Drive
,
Rosedale
, North Shore 0632,

    Copyright © T mar Myers, 2008 All rights reserved a

    
Pennsylvania-Fiction.
3. Cookery-Pennsylvania. 4. Pennsylvania Dutch Country (
Pa.
)-
Fiction. I. Title. PS3563.Y475A9 2008

    Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (
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    This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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    I would like to thank Shelagh Caudle, editor at www.ice-cream-recipes.com, for permission to use the scrumptious ice cream recipes. I would also like to thank my husband, Jeffrey, for all his encouragement and support; my dear friend Gwen Hunter for her friendship and inspiration; and, of course, my four-legged staff of three.

    Not all men are created equal. I learned this fact while honeymooning with my second husband, the Babester, but I will leave the particulars to your imagination. Suffice it to say, whilst showering that evening, I threw back my head and burst into joyous song. Of course, I took care not to swallow too much water and drown like a turkey in a rainstorm.

    “
Oh, sweet mystery of life
,” I trilled, “
at last I’ve found you!
”

    “Hon, are you all right?”

    
“Right as rain!
Never been better.
Tut-tut, cheerio, and all that sort of rot.”

    Gabe stuck his head into the tiny bathroom. Fortunately, the shower curtain was opaque.

    “I thought maybe you’d hurt yourself.”

    “No sirree, Bob. I am as fine as frog’s hair.”

    “Boy, you sound happy.”

    
“Never happier.
In fact, I was just thinking-”

    “Just a second, hon, the phone’s ringing.”

    “Let it ring.
Ta-ling-a-ling-ling.”

    “But it might be Ma.”

    
As my sweet baboo ran off to answer that stupid machine, my rare good mood dissipated like steam from a mirror.
We’d been married for less than six hours and this was the second time my mother-in-law had called. Our wedding was supposed to have cut the apron strings that tied son to mother, but what good did that do when the two of them were joined at the hip? It was going to take a team of orthopedic surgeons to separate this pair.

    “Tell your mother to take a long walk off a short pier, dear.” It’s all in the delivery, you see? Had my tone been any lighter, I might well have bumped my head on the ceiling, thereby adding to the dent that was already there. On the ceiling that is, not my head.