Swift Upswing To The Head

Last week, we had the most splendid lunch. It was a sparkling, sunny day. The kids had helped clean in their boredom, so the kitchen looked pretty swell. All was well with the world.

We sat down at our beautiful still new to me rich wood kitchen table, resplendent with roses, crystal, and white linens. We had an amazing lunch menu:

• A salad of organic spring greens and mesclun with candied almonds, feta cheese, dried cranberries, tossed lightly with a white balsamic dressing

• Thick, hand-sliced slabs of fresh, yeasty baked cornmeal rye and harvest wheat breads spread with a lovely bit of butter

• Ramekins of organic Greek honey-flavored yoghurt topped with handfuls of fresh blueberries and incredibly sweet sliced strawberries

• Tinkling glasses of iced water

Did I mention the white napkins and roses? It was so satisfying and, I thought, nice for a summer lunch. The only thing that would have made it better was a cocktail.

Suddenly, CG says, “Hey, didn’t we just eat this last night?”

Sparkling no more, I say witheringly, “Yes, dear. It’s called leftovers.”

Now, in retrospect, I realized I should have grabbed the kids’ favorite lunch, Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, and whacked him with a good upswing on the back of his head.

Ungrateful ingrate! Ruining the vision of my perfect lunch in my head.

'lisciously scribed by Scout's Honor @ 10:53 AM