These days, I make exactly three things for dinner:
pasta, salad, nothing.
There’ll be weeks where I motivate to try something new, but about a month ago, my mind suddenly sprang a dinner recipe leak.
It’s as if I never knew how to make anything. Kind of like Freaky Friday where I changed bodies with my husband. Except he still doesn’t know how to make anything. So…
Anyway.
I’m pretty sure this dearth of dinner is taking its toll on my family. Just last night, my oldest daughter asked for “broth.”
Just so you know, I don’t starve my children. So far, they seem pretty happy with the myriad pastas I make and the nothing I dress up with a little zero and a dash of zilch. With a side of water.
It used to be I made dinner up. I’d just open cans and chop stuff and dice things and sprinkle this and that into a pan and fry it up. I’d even give my creations names, like “Gnoosh Gnoosh” (a delightful melange of chick peas, eggplant and peanut butter).
But then, all culinary creativity deserted me. And I’m left with nothing. Nothing, I tell you. Plus, when I look at a cookbook I see strange symbols and numbers that are undecipherable. It’s exactly like a map I can’t follow. (And it’s a well-known inner circle secret that I cannot follow maps.) So…
Anyway.
I’m really trying to determine what’s happened here. My theory is that my mind is filled up. New information cannot penetrate. Also, old information.
The other day, I looked around the kitchen and realized that my breakfast had been Airborne.
Please do not call CPS. I assure you: my kids scrounge plenty in the pantry. And from their photos, you can see they seem to be doing quite well for themselves.
My point is: tonight I’m going to make a special Valentine’s Dinner for my family.
I hope I remember that recipe for Gnoosh Gnoosh.
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