A few months ago, our in-laws generously offered to come stay with our kids for the weekend. I was leaving town for a conference and Hubs — Lord, I can't even remember where he was at the time. I'm lucky if I remember how to get home.
Point is, he was gone.
Anyway, my darling spouse assured me at the time that his folks wouldn't arrive until long after dinner. So, figuring I'd be dining solo, I prepared thusly.
(You see where this is going...)
In-laws arrived to find their precious grandchildren feasting on cereal and cheese w/ crackers. Meanwhile, in our oven, a Stouffer's frozen casserole was toasting nicely.
In a panic, I plopped the Stouffer's on the table — still in its paper container — along with some canned corn.
Please understand: My MIL makes everything — EVERYTHING — from scratch. Stouffer's-heating is to her what turkey-stuffing is to me.
Still, I can throw together a decent dinner — with proper notice. And after checking the available spices, which, sadly, often are in limited supply. (Rick: "What do you mean we're out of salt? How can anyone run out of salt?")
Anyway, in-laws are coming again tomorrow. And I swear upon my husband's soon-to-be-dead body if he screws this up again: I WILL OVERCOMPENSATE.
I know Hubs is doubtful. I saw him him glancing nervously at the recipies I've stashed away online. But my reputation is at stake here, not his. (He's one of three sons. You can only imgaine the doting, the raised eyebrows if it appears his wife isn't "taking care of him." Ugh. Pre-Rick, my longest relationship ever was with my dog. I'm not Holly-effing-Homemaker.)
Anyway, must dash. More recipie browsing awaits.
Move the hell over, Julia.
No comments:
Post a Comment