Days 67-69 Just Dance!

Yesterday was an exciting day for me.  It wasn't because I got my nails done, or found a great deal on a super cute pair of high heels.  The reason was simple:  The GOP debate was coming on, and I couldn't wait to watch it.

Just thinking of all the hopeful candidates lined up on the stage, all looking their best and completely studied up on one another, sends a shiver of excitement through my entire body.  It isn't a matter of right, left, independent, male or female.  I just thoroughly enjoy a good debate.  It thrills me to listen to each candidate's views on topics that are important to this great nation.

My husband got home from work and I was cooking dinner.  My husband and son started a game of Monopoly and my daugter was at the dining room table pulling up songs that she likes on her laptop.  My mood was one of enthusiasm because I knew that after dinner I'd pull out some snacks and we'd sit down and get to know the candidates a little better. 

As my daughter is playing music, I began to dance.  I was totally bustin' a move in the kitchen as I stirred the meal.  I was doing what my daughter described as the "sexy funky chicken" while adding spices to the chicken.  I was performing all of my 80's moves to perfection.  My daughter was screaming with laughter.  My husband and son came in.  My husband smiled and my son just sort of stares at me wide-eyed, like, "Oh, mom!" 

Although my daugter was begging me to stop, she joined in a few times.  Right before dinner was ready, I broke out my air guitar.  It was brilliant!  My son loved it.

We began to eat.  Honestly, it was horrible.  I looked up from my plate and saw my husband taking tiny bites with a, "How can I get out of eating this?"  look on his face.  My son just looked at me and said, "Mom, I sure do like your broccoli."  He always finds the sweetness in not-so-sweet situations.  I noticed my daughter didn't even have a plate.  She said, "I had a snack after work so I'm not very hungry."  She was the only smart one.

We finished quickly.  We did't exactly finish our food, but we finished our dinnertime.  My family walked away from the table, still hungry!  I asked my husband, "Do you think that was gross?"  He said, "Oh no!  Maybe just bland."  I said, "Please!  I can do bland, but I can't do gross, and that was just gross!"  He smiled.  He's a smart man.

I'm not a great cook, and everyone knows that.  I have been known to follow a recipe with exact precision, and the meal still doesn't taste right!  The "cooking gene" just somehow missed me.  I've learned to accept that. 

Although our food was horrible, and we left the table hungry, all was still very well in our home.  We all had smiles on our faces. 

One things for sure:  My family won't remember the night I served them a meal that wasn't fit for human consumption, but they WILL remember me dancing in the kitchen.