Went to a fabulous spin class followed by a very relaxing yoga class this Monday. Gosh, I just loved it. Then did nothing for the rest of the week. Well, that's out of the way.
Tonight we will be having roasted potatoes with Mexican oregano for dinner. They are supposed to have basil, but the containers look quite alike. Which reminds me of a time in my childhood...
My mother used to feed us goulash for dinner. A lot. Not authentic goulash or anything fancy, just where you make red sauce and instead of putting it over spaghetti, you put elbow noddles in it. I was never very fond of it. Not sure why - I loved spaghetti, but somehow the noodles already in it just didn't work for my picky kid self. Mom says I was extremely particular about textures, so maybe the noodles got mushy or something.
One night she was making it. I was hanging around at her side and watching, most likely mentioning that I didn't care for it as a dinner choice. She was probably saying, "Well, you can eat it anyway." She reached in the cupboard for the large plastic thing of oregano with the shaker and shook some in. Except it happened that the cinnamon was also in the same sort of large plastic thing and happened to have no shaker. Yep, pile of cinnamon right on top of the goulash. My mom looked at me. I looked at her. I'm sure we had horrified expressions. She began to remove the top of the cinnamon pile, but of course some had already incorporated itself into the tomato sauce. I opened my mouth to protest and, before any words could escape, mom fiercely whispered, "Don't tell your sisters and you can have grilled cheese."
At the dinner table, my sisters were all, "This tastes funny," and my mom was all, "No it doesn't. It's the same as always." Then they were all, "How come Jenny doesn't have to eat it?" and my mom was all, "You know she doesn't like goulash..."
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