can’t you see
I’m here?
can’t you see I’m
brand new?
Can’t you see me at all?
My Mom Says “I Love You” with Food
So we went out to dinner. Not McDonald’s, either.
We went to a buffet. A mega casino-style buffet:
Salads—Oriental chicken; wilted spinach; ambrosia; three-bean;
crab (at least that’s what they call it); potato (three kinds); pasta
(five kinds); carrot & raisin (nasty); and, of course, green.
Entrees—pizza, lasagna, mushroom ravioli; fried chicken,
roasted chicken, chicken piccata; mahi, halibut, and deep-fried
cod; mashed, baked, scalloped potatoes; vegetables; and on the
carving board, roast beef, roast turkey, and roast loin of pork.
Desserts—apple, cherry, and lemon meringue pies; angel, carrot,
and triple-chocolate cakes; pastries, cookies, rum balls, and
truffles; cobblers and bread pudding; soft-serve ice cream, with
all the fixings; and for sweet-tooths on a diet, strawberries
(forget the diet, top with whipped cream!).
So Mom gets two plates (low carbs), strawberries (no whipped cream).
Leigh gets three, eats half of each, skips dessert.
Scott eats most of three, with a brownie and ice cream for dessert.
Jake finishes four, down to the gravy; tops that off with three desserts.
As for me, still battling
the monster
for brain and
stomach space,
I picked at a
single plate.