Sharp Corners

Many thanks for the well wishes, you kind people. I’ve found that if I prop my forearm on 7 CD cases, my hand is in the perfect typing position as long as I don’t make any sudden movements and cause the stack to topple. Perseverance is my middle name.

I spent today volunteering at my sons’ school. Overall, it was a good time but lunch was a real experience. Since the boys eat at different times during the day, twice I tore myself away from the paper cutter in the volunteer work area to dine with them. Figuring it couldn’t be too bad, I gamely bought lunch in the cafeteria from a horrifying troll woman with warts on her nose (I think she said, "Thank you, my pretty" and cackled while giving me my change but I’m not sure). Round One, eaten with my oldest son, was pizza, corn and a salad. Oh, and chocolate milk, of course.

Holy mother of god, what are these schools feeding the children? The corn was of the frozen-mush variety. And the pizza? Ketchup on undercooked dough with a smattering of shredded government cheese. The "salad" was actually grass from the playground served with a side of flaming orange liquid trying to pass itself off as french dressing.

Round Two (because, yes, I bought another entire lunch to eat with my middle son) was a strange rendition of spaghetti (?), more corn and another "salad." Oh, and chocolate milk, of course. The spaghetti noodles were thoughtfully broken into little pieces so no fork twirling was required. The pasta was mixed into a meat sauce consisting, I suspect, of Tuesday’s leftover hamburgers. Into the fray, the chef had tossed approximately twelve cans of V-8 or some such thing (Clamato, perhaps?), mixed it all together and pronounced it edible.

Missing from this menu were the chocolate chip cookies the monthly menu had promised would be available (and the real reason I didn’t bring my lunch in the first place). It’s just as well, I suppose, because the cookie would have probably been the remnants of a fourth grade science experiment and the chips…well, I shudder to think what the chips would have been.

The strangest part of these meals? They weren’t half bad.

There’s no accounting for taste.

This entry was posted on Friday, August 19th, 2005 at 4:55 pm and is filed under Brain lint. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.