What's for Dinner?
It’s the question I hate, and yet, it is asked of me at least 4 times a day. What’s for dinner? Why does it bother me so much? I think it’s because I hear it more than anything else. Hi mom, what’s for dinner? Where’s mom? What’s for dinner? Is mom down there? What’s for dinner? I’m reduced to a single purpose—feed the hungries. And I know I’m so much more. Sometimes, I fantasize about being simply, not available. No food in the house. Nothing is for dinner. Someone else needs to answer that question. I realize my hatred of this question is irrational and impractical. I am the only one who can answer the question. Afterall, I plan the weekly meals, do all of the grocery shopping and cooking. Dinner is my jam! Yet, I still can not stand being asked. So, how can I avoid the question? A dry erase board. I bought one specifically for this purpose. It has the days of the week and I populate it with each nights dinner plan. There is space for o