It's Not Dinner Until There's a Can of Mushroom Soup In It!

It's Not Dinner Until There's a Can of Mushroom Soup in it. (Why Does Dinner Give me Horrible Diarrhea?)

Thinking back on dinnertime in my childhood, there were some interesting dishes served.  Several of them were concoctions involving mushroom soup.  You know, the grey glop you had to pry open with a can opener.   Of course now it has a pop top which makes it so much fancier.  At least twice a week, we could count on a meal with at least a can or two thrown in.  There was pork chops and potatoes with mushroom soup poured on top, chicken tetrazzini a la mushroom soup, hamburger macaroni corn casserole glued together with mushroom soup, tater tot casserole via mushroom soup, noodles and mushroom soup combined when in a hurry, and the piece de resistance - mushroom soup in a bowl with a spoon (this delicacy was reserved for lunch, because mushroom soup for dinner wouldn't be a whole meal).

As delicious as I thought all of these options were at the time, for some reason I would always end up in the bathroom about 10 minutes after finishing.  FOR A LONG TIME.  Turns out mushroom soup is nature's cleanser.  Well probably not nature's, but a sure thing anyhow.  To my brothers, can I get an AMEN?

Another puzzling menu item was a side salad which consisted of iceberg lettuce, Miracle Whip (not mayonaise)  and wait for it................bananas!  Yummy!  I would help my mother slice the bananas for this and feel so proud with visions of cookbooks by me dancing through my head.  Thanks, Mom for sometimes (not always) teaching me what NOT to make for dinner.  Or for teaching me how to have a digestive blow-out in various ways when I was feeling just not quite myself.

On days when I was told to make dinner, I would throw a loop in the whole Mushroom Soup is King philosophy and make spaghetti and Ragu.  Most times I was asked to make dinner, it was already in the oven and I just had to turn it on an hour before my parents would get home from work.   Which brings up another way to have horrible cramping stomachaches - eat food that has sat in a cold oven all day.

Getting back to the spaghetti,  I would pour the jar of Ragu into a saucepan and simmer that bad boy for hours.  (Ragu does not need to be simmered for hours.)  Shortly before my parents came home from a long day of work, I got the noodles boiled and drained them with lots of lukewarm water then served it up on a plate so pleased with myself and the hard work I'd put into this lovely dinner.  Halfway through we were all wondering why there was a ring of water surrounding our mounds of spaghetti.

Just thinking about that is giving me the feeling all over again.  Is the bathroom free?

The digestive devil.

Bus Stop Thug

Bus Stop Thug

Honey, look at the criminals getting off of that school bus!  What is it the Maricopa County Sheriff's chain gang in pink handcuffs?  No, it's teenagers going to high school!  In fact, call the Maricopa County Sheriff to put a stop to it!   Muffin, run to the prepped bunker - this is worse than the zombie apocolypse!

Really?  What kind of neighborhood do I live in where the bus stop causes sheer panic?  One full of crotchety retirees who can't contain their crotchetyness, I'd say.  How's  about instead of calling the school bus transportation department director to come and observe the situation, you come out and directly and peacefully ask me about what might or might not be going on every morning and afternoon.  I'd be happy to tell you that my son is simply waiting for the bus....to go......to school.  What does it look like he's doing, praytell?  And how's about not calling the Sheriff because the aforementioned transportation director told you just that and nothing more.

I know my 15 year old, 5'6 blonde haired, blue eyed, backpack carrying, nerd-glasses wearing son may look threatening, but I assure you, he's no thug.  Give me a break and get a life!