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To Hell With Dinner!

I  know that, I say all the time, how fed up I am. How, if I can't cook to suit His Highness, that he is more than welcome to cook for himself. Yet, every evening, I am back in that kitchen, trying my level best to cook something, anything, that will receive his seal of approval. Why? Because I'm an idiot, that's why.

   I have been cooking since I was seven years old. I bake fluffy, golden brown, biscuits. My gravy never, EVER, has lumps in it. I don't make mashed potatoes, I make whipped potatoes that are delicious. People pay me to create desserts and main dishes for their baby showers, reunions, etc... I am a field editor for Taste of Home magazine! My friends and family love my food. Heck, I have a son with Asperger's and he is as honest as the day is long. If my food tasted bad, he would be the first to tell me.

  I may spend two or three hours preparing a meal that will be devoured in less than thirty minutes. Why? Because I love my family and I want them to have the best. I put as much love and effort into preparing their meals, as I would  for any king or queen. Everyone appreciates it. After dinner, I hear lots of "thank you"s and "dinner was delicious" from everyone. Everyone, except for my husband.

  From him I hear these wonderful comments...
"Are we out of salt?"
"This bread is too toasty."
"I can't chew this meat."
"Remember where we bought this sauce, so we know never to buy it again."
"The closest you came to salting this food is when you walked past the shaker, on the way to bring me my plate."
"Shepherd's pie? Well give mine to the damned Shepherds"
"You must have been making dinner for everyone but me. You know good and well that I don't like tacos."
"This burger is too thick."
"There's no way you salted this meat."
and on and on and on...

   Along with the complaints about the taste, texture, or how the food was prepared, there is also the issue of presentation...

"Did you close your eyes and throw this at my plate?"
"Why didn't you put my peas next to the potatoes?"
"If you can't cut a sandwich straighter than that, I feel sorry for you." (I have astigmatism so sometimes, even though it appears even to me, I may cut a sandwich with one side a bit larger than the other.) I thought I had found the remedy to this when, instead of cutting the sandwich into two uneven rectangles, I sliced it from corner to corner. NOT!
I was told, "I have never liked my sandwich cut into triangles."

  I have tried looking at things from his point of view, but I just can't. I would never, ever, be so rude to someone who was nice enough to prepare food for me, whether I liked it or not. He always tells me how horrible his dad was to his mother, complaining at every meal and hurting her feelings. I point out that he does me the same way and he looks at me like I have three heads. Could he possibly be that oblivious to what a jerk he is being? I find that hard to believe.

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  1. Hmmmm, serve him his dinner in the dog's dish. Just a thought!

  2. HaHA S.A. I think I'd rather make him sleep on the couch and place a sign on the bedroom door that reads'"BEAT IT!WE'RE CLOSED!" and sign it "Sincerely,My Legs"


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