Mrs. Keith Guthals and me looked at the dessert served the other night at the FFA-Chamber banquet and wondered, "Why not sour cream chocolate cake?"
Keith just laughed, Millie snorted and I got hunger pangs.
Actually, the fault lies with Walter Eden. He had a farm sale and ole' butterfat rich Bessie is not around to yield to the strong (mebbe a bit cold in the mornings) hands of Walter.
Millie will find another source, but until then we'll settle for chocolate chip cookies and chocolate cake with maraschino cherries. They're a pretty good substitute.
There is one pastry that we stay away from — peanut butter cookies.
The big news the past week came from Morton House Kitchens, Inc. and from Omaha Public Power District.
One hundred employes affected by a temporary layoff were notified Friday that they are to return to work April 7. Plant manager Ray Ott was pleased to make that announcement.
OPPD awarded a $5 million contract on the coal burning plant to be built five miles southeast of town and will act on a $12 million site preparation contract at a later date.
Stolen
A man promised his wife that when they'd saved enough money, they'd take a trip to Europe. For years they scrimped, going without many things, missing all the good movies and stretching last winter's clothing another year. Finally, the husband was able to report:
"Good news, mother. We've saved enough money to pay for a trip to Europe."
"Wonderful," she exclaimed. "Can we start packing tomorrow?"
"Well, no," he said, "Now all we have to do is save enough for the trip back."
From Bill Schock, editor of the Falls City Journal:
"It feels like spring today. Spring — the time when middle aged men's thoughts turn to how to dodge upcoming home and lawn improvement suggestions."
Bill "made the news" in the News-Press 40 years ago as a basketball selection following a tournament at Falls City . . . "and all the time the people around Falls City had been of the opinion that all the gray hair and wrinkles were considerably premature," he said after reading the item.
Time does have a way of slipping past us, Bill. Did I ever tell you about the time I took on No. 1 son in a wrestling match on the living room floor after we had been pheasant hunting all morning?
The Queen Bee welcomed the hunters with one of those great fried chicken Sunday dinners with potatoes and super gravy and such. The only way, we figured, to settle that food was to do a little wrestling.
We chose the living room, despite the "get out of my house" pleas from the other ½. Fortunately we did not break anything nor did we settle who really was the winner.
No. 1 son settled back in a chair for a few minutes to rest up while I leaped to my feet, danced a jig, then went into the bedroom and out of sight to gasp for air.
I failed to follow Max Moyer's advice: "Lay it on heavy for 10 seconds, then quit."
Did the winter seem long and drawn out to you?
It's easy to be pessimistic during winter, but sunshine and the 60s sure have a way of brightening a day and the outlook.
There is one casualty — my winter coat.
Oh, it's still good for another winter, but it became somewhat of a troublesome task for Millie. I buttoned it and unbuttoned it so many times this winter that Millie had to sew the buttons on three times.
This is called sticking your foot in your mouth:
At a dinner party, a shy young man had been trying to think of something nice to say to his hostess. At last he saw his chance when she turned to him and remarked, "What a small appetite you have, Mr. Landis."
"To sit next to you," Whoopie replied gallantly, "would cause any man to lose his appetite."
Little Bucks
Ken Wiles needs some help. Can anyone help him with the names of the recipients of the Elks of the Year award? . . . We think the suggestion by Leroy Fletchall was the best we've heard this week: Every home should be equipped with a 2½ pound dry chemical fire extinguisher . . . Who does all the work setting up the annual Legion birthday dinner? Mrs. Bud "Mickey" Schreiner is quick to name a dozen people . . . but they say Mickey is spoofing us . . . she's been doing it for 22 or 23 years and giving the credit to others each year.
Didya hear about the little old lady who entered a department store and suddenly became the center of attraction?
Instantly a band began to play, an orchid was pinned on her dress, and a $100 bill was put into her hand. She found herself being photographed and interviewed by newspaper reporters.
"You're our one millionth customer," Bob McKone, the master of ceremonies, told her, smiling broadly. "And now, can you tell us what you came into our store for today?"
"Yes," said the little old lady. "I'm on my way to the complaint department."
ARS wrote in his column the other day that an award will be presented to a newsman in the Phoenix area in memory of the late Virg Hill.
We knew Virg and his late wife, Ruth, for many years. We didn't know about the Hill award until we read the Notebook.
Virg was a Kansas newspaperman, then published the Fairbury Daily News. I worked for him as a part-time linotype operator while going to Doane college. I used to pick up the key to the shop from his mailbox at 5 a.m. on Sundays and Ruth always had something for an empty stomach when I returned the key.
I timed Virg when he wrote his daily column, "Hilltoppers." His speed was something else. He also had a photography hobby. He admitted that the 35mm cameras were here to stay, but there was nothing like his old waist-shooting Graflex.
He sold the Fairbury paper and moved to Scottsdale, Ariz. He told me once on a visit to their home that if he'd gotten his wisdom in younger years he'd moved to Arizona sooner. They were very happy there.
Virg died at his desk while covering the Arizona legislature. His widow moved to Los Angeles and by coincidence, in the same neighborhood of my folks. My mother and Ruth visited over the phone a great deal.
Then four years ago when we were in LA, I dialed the Hill phone number on a Monday morning. A woman answered. I asked to speak to Mrs. Hill and told who I was.
"We buried mother Saturday," the daughter said. "She was 83 years old."