Friday, July 2, 2010

Velveeta Lips

Let me tell you why I have sticky, chapped Velveeta Lips tonight.

It's simple, really.

You see, I'm the proud owner of three organic-only vegetarians and a husband who views the ingestion of cheese as the eighth deadly sin.

But, never-the-less, I made this for dinner this evening.

Okay, if you must know, I added some pasta and tomato sauce to it.  But I think you get the picture. . .

And just how did it feel to stir those lumps of processed-american-cheese-food into those non-organic-non-whole-wheat-and non-sprouted-nor-spelted-white-flour (gasp!!!) pasta shells while adding the pulverized flesh of some caged-for-life-steroid-injected bovine and pesticide-ridden tomato sauce from (are you ready for this) a can????

Well I'm here to tell you that it felt good.

No. . . it felt more than good.   It felt liberating. . . invigorating. . . freedom-ringing.

In fact, you might even say that it smacked of independence!

It said, A Mom on Spin is mad as hell and she's not going to take it anymore!

It cried,  I'm sick and tired of catering to the whims of every person in this household when no one appreciates my efforts!

It declared, The cleaning lady drives a freakin' Land Rover and I'm driving a 1999 minivan!

Yup.  The dinner said all that.

Or. . .  it was meant to anyway. . . .

But things don't always go as planned in the Spin household.  You see. . . Trigger was working.  And Ponzi was invited out to dinner with another family.  And Veggie had a very special anniversary dinner planned with her boyfriend.   And Mr. Drip Dry was late - as usual - in getting home from work.  And so I was somewhat deprived of the pleasure I had envisioned as they each walked through the door and wondered what delicacy I had made for their dining pleasure tonight.

But I wasn't deprived of the pleasure of eating that dinner all by myself.   Let me clarify that. . . I was in no way deprived of the pleasure of eating all of that dinner all by myself (hence the Velveeta Lips . . .)

And when Drip Dry finally did get home and noticed no dinner was in the making, he wondered if we were going to just grill some burgers or something. .  . to which I innocently replied  . . . Oh, I already ate!

And then he went to the refrigerator and pulled out the leftovers from last night's dinner: Fresh-North-Atlantic-and-expertly-grilled salmon. . . simmered-and-stirred-to-perfection spinach risotto . . .  and pesticide-free-spinach-and-yellow squash.

And just like that, Drip Dry had himself one heck of a dinner.

Revenge?  Some may say it tastes sweet. . . .

But I contend that - at times - it can be quite a sticky subject!