For my 300th post I thought I should post something short, sweet and snarky. I also forgot to mention that you can all now reach my site by typing in getinthecar.net - soon I will have the entire blog over there, and be entirely free of blogger once and for all. Free, I say! But for now it's a lot less cumbersome to type and certainly easier to remember...and for those of you using readers, if you wouldn't mind adjusting your browsers sometime I would greatly appreciate it.
Last night The Teenager had a friend stay for dinner. In the past year The Teenager has gone from a drooling carnivore to an animal hugging vegetarian. Coincidentally, many of her friends are also vegetarians. I get it, I do. She's trying on one of sure to be many personas in her efforts to find herself. I also get that karma is a total whore because I did this to my own mother and forced her to create tofu dishes for me at holiday dinners. Because we all know how easy it is to create a Thanksgiving feast, why not whip up a Thai peanut tofu noodle dish, as well?
For the five-sixths of the family who still consume the evil flesh, I had cooked a jambalaya with turkey sausage. On the side I had a spinach salad and fresh sliced nectarines. A cold pitcher of iced tea also sat sweating on the kitchen table. It was a simple summer meal, but one that made me happy to prepare in light of all the hospital cafeteria food we've eaten recently. Before I added the turkey sausage, I carefully made a veggie jambalaya with black beans and chick peas and topped it with grated cheese. I called everyone in to eat and told them to hurry up - we planned on catching a family swim before bedtime. The Teenager and her friend, Surly Political Teen, came into the kitchen and sniffed the air like a couple of knobby-kneed Meerkats.
"Um, is that meat I smell?" Grumbled The Teenager.
"Yes, it is a deceased turkey that is flavoring our rice. I have a vegetarian dish on the table for you and Surly Political Teen. Now wash up."
Surly Political Teen rolled her eyes with my daughter and tapped her fingers disdainfully on the bowl of our carniverous fare. "You're the only one in your family who is a vegetarian?" My daughter nodded her painful assent, acknowledging her lone status as the only sane and good member of the family. Surly Political teen looked at me. "You know, Kentucky Fried Chicken tortures their animals before cooking them."
"Well, honey, this is turkey. I just slapped it around a little before frying it."
Five years to college and counting.