Oh Dear. It was bound to happen. I've been tagged by Susanne at Living to Tell the Story for a meme at which I will stink.
I don't cook well. I also just don't cook. But, I'm rising to the challenge of this meme. So turn on your exhaust fan, Susanne, and away we go.
Susanne says, "Tell about 8 random things in your kitchen." And then she proceeds to talk about legitimate things in her kitchen, like a Quisinart coffee bean grinder and chopper thing, for goodness sake. Well, big deal, Susanne. I happen to have a black plastic spatula with melted edges. (Tres chic.)
1. I have a stain on my ceiling (see photo above) because of a French pen pal who was trying to get me to prepare one of his dishes against my protestations. I was supposed to open a bottle of red wine, and it sort of exploded. After all was said and done and not eaten because it didn't turn out right (Give me a break, his measurements were METRIC), the one stain I missed was on the ceiling. I've not painted over it yet. But just so you know, it's not blood or anything.
2. I have a baking dish that my best friend gave me before I was married, which makes it circa 1984-85. It's orange. Orange has now been in vogue in the kitchen, then out, now back in. I am old.
3. My walls are gold with white wainscoting at the bottom. I have a rich, dark sort of formal floral border going all the way around the dining/kitchen combo.
4. I have some rustic chickens hanging around. I love chickens.
5. We eat cereal a lot. Even for supper.
6. In Indiana, it's traditional to call lunch "dinner," also. Then the later meal is also known as "supper." I just mis-typed that "super," which is the polar opposite of my suppers.
7. Last night I fixed dinner and my 14 year-old said, "Wow, this is like 3 or 4 nights in a row that you cooked!" We had Taco Bell tonight. Best meal all week.
8. We don't have a microwave. It died. Then our college girl bought one and we used it all summer until she took it to school with her this fall. Now we don't have one again, and although I never cooked main dishes in them (or really, in the conventional oven, either, but that's beside the point), I'm surprised at how much I miss having one.
Well, Susanne, I hope you're happy. Now the whole world (about six of the six billion, anyway) know my dirty little kitchen secrets. Moral: Don't trust French pen pals who think they can save your culinary derrière. They really want to snarl at you.
I'm tagging Debbie at Like a Rose. Go for it, Deb.