So tonight I figured I’d haul my fat pregnant self off the couch and make some dinner. Since the hubby ate frozen pizza and gummy bears for dinner last night, it’s not like it was going to be difficult to follow.
I went with some frozen chicken nuggets and strips (mmmm, honey barbeque), a box of Annie’s alfredo mac’n’cheese and some frozen veggies (after removing the mushrooms, so as not to offend hubby’s delicate sensibilities). Everything was going pretty well until I drained the pasta and went to grab the butter and milk from the fridge.
No milk. Oh, right, I dumped that yesterday because it was almost two weeks past the sell-by date and it smelled kind of funny a lot funny. Fortunately, on the back of the Annie’s box it says you can substitute yogurt for milk. Great! Except, I don’t have any yogurt either. Chocolate jell-o, yes. (Those are really close, right?) I’m sure I’ve made pasta salad with mayo/miracle whip before, and that’s probably closer to milk than orange juice (or chocolate jell-o), so in it went. I had to add about a tablespoon or two of water since it was a bit chunky at first, but it turned out okay.
The whole dinner experiment reminded me of when I was a kid, though. I remember thinking that when you were an adult, you were supposed to be organized, put together and able to plan ahead. Like when your ingredient list is three items, one of which is in a sealed, pre-packaged box, you’d check the other two ingredients before you started.
Oh, what a naive child I was!
