(Someday, I am going to convince my wife Jenny, who is wicked hot and wicked smart, to start her own blog. Until then though, I’ll have to be happy with her jumping in with the occasional guest post. Enjoy.)
Phoning in dinner on Sunday night.
I have a confession to make, which is odd considering Jon started last Monday’s post the same way. But it’s true, I do have something I need to admit.
I phone in dinner on Sunday night.
I wing it.
If you come to the Acuff house for dinner on Sunday night, you are going to be at the bare minimum slightly disappointed.
The week is over. I’m exhausted. Sure, Jon has taken care of the kids, cleaned the house, washed the clothes by hand in a mountain stream and provided for all of my emotional needs, but I’m still tired. (Jon wrote that last sentence.)
But I’m done. Have you ever felt “done?” Have you ever finished a day and tagged your husband and said, “you’re it, the kids are all yours?” That’s what Sundays feel like sometimes. And when they do, one of the following things is going to happen at our house for dinner:
1. Make your own sandwich night!
Hooray, sandwiches that you get to make yourself! How fun! Kids always fall for this one. (I’m still trying to spin this into “Make mom and dad’s bed morning” but they appear resistant to the tactic.)
2. Breakfast supper
If we had scrambled eggs at lunch, I’d get funny looks. Dinner? That’s breakfast supper! Bacon? Check. Eggs? Check. Grits? Check. You throw pancakes in the mix and you’ve got a legit supper.
3. Leftovers parade.
Take every meal we’ve had for the last two days, heat, plate with some sort of garnish, like popsicles, and you’re good to go. Now a lot of chefs, particularly French chefs, will not agree with me that a red popsicle can be used as a garnish, but you give me a popsicle and I will give you two incredibly pliable children willing to eat broccoli.
4. Dad cooks dinner.
Cooks is too strong of a word, but if I titled it accurately and wrote, “Dad cooks 99 cent Totino’s Frozen Pizzas” that would be too long. Jon loves those things, but I’m sorry, the freeze-dried cubes of green peppers on the “Supreme” don’t constitute a vegetable. Vegetable matter? Sure.
5. Chicken Fingers.
Jon has a theory that anytime Saturday Night Live feels ratings slipping they call Justin Timberlake and have him host. Something about Justin Timberlake makes everything better. That’s how I feel about chicken fingers. Although we’re out of the solid year of chicken fingers, CF08, they still make a cameo and will do when needed.
Maybe we’ll all have dinner some night. Jon is constantly inviting people over and then telling me about it approximately 19 minutes before they show up.
But if you do come over, please make sure it’s Tuesday night. You’ll get A-game Acuff dining on Tuesday night. Sunday night? I’m phoning that one in.
How about you? Ever phoned it in on a Sunday night?