Muses

Musing on school lunches. Canned green beans take me away.

 

Open a can of green beans and faster than you can say “Jolly Green Giant,” I am transported to my grade school cafeteria.

Not only do I dip my steak in ketchup but eating (and sniffing) green beans from a can makes me happy.

I joined my daughter today for lunch.

Say "no" to the hand.

 

My daughter is tiring of being the subject for blog posts. Or so she protests.

Back in my day, you had to try everything on the plate and drink your milk.

I can’t drink milk. Never have, never will. (This provided lots of angst for me as child at lunch.)

If I didn’t drink most of the carton still ice cold from the chest, there was no way. If the lunch room monitor shook my carton and decided I needed to drink more of — at this point — warm milk…

Vomiteria.

I tried some of her pork and gravy.

This is the way I roll. Workout, clean out more of attic, come dusty and stinky to school for lunch.

A friend saw me at the Open House the other night said I looked pretty.

I think this was because I had showered.

After lunch, we headed to the Book Fair.

Jill Hill (who has an awesome blog) was dutifully volunteering and cheerfully ringing up sales.

 

While the brilliant writer and blogger Meg Ferrante was lifting the till while Jill’s back was turned.

 

Meg has a awesome annual blog during Advent. For those of us who love reading, she needs to think year-round or at least expand her blog by adding sacred liturgical favorites such as Lent and Halloween.

I love visiting my daughter for lunch.

I love chatting with her friends, waving at all my beautiful dutiful volunteering friends, and my daughter’s unabashed kiss goodbye.

What’s your canned green bean memory?

I’m going to get cleaned up.

Look forward to reading what made you vomit all over the mean girl. (If you had to vomit on someone, I hope it was the mean girl.)

 

           

           

Subscribe Blog Posts to Your Email.

Archives