12 minutes and 25 minutes........

Second Grandson is here this morning, he has a standing order for homemade biscuits and southern gravy, which involves either bacon or sausage crumbled into the mix.. I walked into the kitchen at 7:35am, pulled out the flour and the shortening, and made biscuits, sliced some sausage, and got it cooking, then pitched the biscuits into the oven.  It took 12 whole minutes, from the time I walked in until I was back in my computer chair, waiting to hear it start sizzling.  Now I'm waiting on the smoke alarm to go off, signaling that the meat is done, and I'll mix up the gravy, fix hubby a couple of eggs, and put on my french maids uniform to serve it.  I would don my waitress outfit, but the only tip they ever leave is dirty dishes, and tell me to make a bigger pan of gravy next time.

20 minutes after setting the food on the table, it is now mostly consumed, and I've heard no complaints.

You've heard the You Might Be a Redneck jokes, I'm sure.   I used to have a shirt that said: "You might be a Redneck if your Dog doubles as your dishwasher".   I paid more for that particular tee shirt than any other I have owned.  Even the mayor of the town about 10 miles away stopped me in a store, and asked where I'd found it, he wanted one for himself.   Anyway the dishwashers are under the table, waiting impatiently to get to work, so I better get into the kitchen and clean off the table before they decide to wash it...their dishes are waiting for their share of the leftovers, the dogs like my cooking, too.