Dinner

I’ve eaten an equal number of pea pods and peanut M&Ms for dinner. That about equals out healthwise, right?

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pic by Matthijs on flickr.

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Not my fault

Dear person who sits next to me on the plane tomorrow,

It was my husband’s idea to get Mexican food for dinner tonight, not mine.

Sincerely,

Courtney

Pic by Jeffreyw
Pic by Jeffreyw

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Homemade cooking

I’ve decided that I’m going to start calling a lot more of my food “homemade.”

To be honest I homemake a lot of my food. Sure I homemake it in my microwave, but considering my microwave is in my home, I think I can get off on a technicality.

My food never looks like this ... ever.Thanks to Podknox on Flickr.
My food never looks like this … ever.
Thanks to Podknox on Flickr.

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Culinary low

Mike and I just hit a low point in our culinary careers when we both decided that we were too lazy to run to the store (which admittedly is across the street) to buy more spaghetti or mostaccioli and opted instead to just break up the lasagna noodles we happened to have into more manageable bits.

Sad.

Our meal did not look like this. Thanks to jeffreyw on Flickr for making us look bad.
Our meal did not look like this. Thanks to jeffreyw on Flickr for making us look bad.

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Classy dinner guests

Mike and I are heading over to some friends’ house for dinner.

“How do we transport the spinach artichoke dip so we don’t look tacky?” Mike asked.

“Babe, we’re going to look tacky. It’s kind of our MO,” I said, remembering that we made the dip two days ago and that the wine we planned to bring costs about $4 a bottle.

“Well, should I just bring it over like it is? Frozen in a yogurt container? Or should I microwave it and put it in our mini-Crockpot?”

Needless to say, we’re nuking it and then toting it over.

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How I know my husband loves me … sort of

Because I have a bunch of work to finish up tonight, Mike, my wonderful husband, is making me dinner.

We’re having Mac ‘N Cheese ‘N Peas, one of my favorite dishes (seriously, no sarcasm).

“How many peas do you want?” he asked.

“Ummm, 167,” I said in true smart-alec form.

“OK,” he replied and began counting.

That’s how much he loves me.

But then he got bored and said, “If you want me to count your peas, you’re not going to get very many peas.”

Understandable.

And I’m pretty sure he loves me a whole lot, just not 167 individual peas worth.

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