Write 31 Days SIX WORD MEMOIR

Please check these beauties out:  http://www.sixwordmemoirs.com

Because it's all I've got today, people.  This is IT.  SIX WORDS about this wonderful Write 31 Days project.  Because I spent two days on the most glorious reading binge and I did not write a word and I'm enough of an Obliger that I need to sit down here and catch up because I am two posts behind.  Hence, six word memoir = CHECK!  POST COMPLETED.  I'm a rule-follower, y'all.  

Here it is, in all it's glory:

Daily writing, in actuality, means DAILY.

So I have to cut the crap about skipping days.  NO MORE.  It stresses me out.

To paraphrase the indescribable Anne Lamott:  Butt in chair.  Sh%#*y first drafts.  Do it like a debt of honor.

My Superpower

I have a superpower.  It is LEGIT.  Uncanny. It's completely predictable by my children, and utterly unpredictable by me.  It is a feat of coordination that I don't even consciously coordinate.  It is like an invisible connection that I have on a CELLULAR LEVEL.  I just love it SO MUCH.

Sadly, for THEM, my supernatural connection is with the cafeteria at their school.  That's right.  I'm cosmically dialed into the LUNCHROOM.  This connection brings me heaps and heaps of pure joy, because anyone who knows me well knows my complete and utter affinity for and devotion to the deliciousness that is CAFETERIA FOOD. And also STADIUM FOOD AND CONCESSION STAND FOOD, but I digress.

My menu planning is on the same level as the lunch ladies.  For weeknight meals, there's no need to get too fancy, friends.    I realize that this gives you a bit of a peek into my culinary prowess, and also to my unrefined palate, as I LOVE ME SOME SERIOUS SCHOOL LUNCH.  Turkey gravy, anyone???

Let me explain how this usually goes down:

The bus pulls up.  The three tired, ravenous, dirty school boys file out and pile into the car.  Immediately upon entry, they grab a snack and demand to know what's for dinner and IF IT IS READY.  The cacophony alone could split the atom.

Then, I say something along these lines:

Dinner is. . . .  Pasta!  Tacos!  Pizza!  Quesadillas!  Chicken and Rice!  Fish!  Meatball Subs!  Soup!  Fajitas!  Hot Dogs!  Macaroni and Cheese!  Hamburgers!  Sloppy Joes!  Breakfast for Dinner!

AND. . . . .  IT'S READY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And then the GROANING COMMENCES.

Dinner skeptic.

According to my completely unscientific analysis, two times out of 10, the groaning is from any given child who does not enjoy what is being served that night.  To which I reply, Help yourself to yogurt or a sandwich after you've had a bit of what I've lovingly made you for dinner with my bare hands.

Eight times out of ten, ALL OF THEM GROAN BECAUSE I'VE DONE IT YET AGAIN.

I made for dinner EXACTLY what they ate for lunch.

It is spectacular.  I do this at least once a week.  And I find it utterly hilarious.

They, however, DO NOT.

I can hear you thinking. . . Why don't you check the school menu on Sundays in order to avoid making the same thing for dinner?  Wouldn't that solve the problem?

That's an excellent question.

My answer is threefold:

ONE:  If these monkeys want variety in their meals on any given day, they should check the menus themselves and inform me on Sundays when I am planning the meals.  And then, they should scour the internet to find inventive, easy weeknight meals that don't ever get made by ladies in hairnets. And, they should shut their pretty little mouths when I make something new and not complain and grumble.  

TWO:  I SIMPLY CANNOT BE BOTHERED TO ADD A SCHOOL LUNCH MENU CHECK TO MY WEEKLY MENU PLANNING ROUTINE.  It is a feat of organization that meals even get planned, people.  

THREE:  I secretly enjoy this magical coordination with the lunch ladies.  I want to see how long I can keep this SUPERPOWER STREAK GOING.

Landon graduates from high school in 2030.  I'm aiming high, friends.  AIMING HIGH.  

2030 OR BUST.