Getting it home

Okay, so the car was crowded. Crap in the trunk, one more kid and more crap in the back seat. Did I mention this is a Beetle? Fish, my older daughter, who won the wrestling match, takes charge. She straps the flour in, possessive. Notice the teenage texting appendage hard at work. She is seventeen after all. So, the flour goes to our temporary quarters in Park City, Utah, nestled like a fetus. Daughter, flour, car, and phone all made the trip without incident. From here, the flour sat in our vacation condo for a few days, then rode back to California in the trunk of a Prius, ready to fulfill our flour fantasies. Bread, pie, cake, fried chicken coating, cookies, gravy, we are ready for anything.