Bon Appetit!

  Tonight I made potato soup. Well, I attempted it.

  I had made this dish last week, and it was delicious and creamy, like cumulus clouds with dill. I craved it every night for the past week. Tonight I decided to make a double batch, as it takes over an hour to cook and there was hardly enough for us to have seconds last time, how bogus is that? The trouble is, I'm not so great at doubling things.

  The recipe calls for "two large potatoes". I used six tiny ones. I figured this was plenty, not remembering that I actually needed FOUR large potatoes. In my defense, the smoke alarm (aka, my nemesis) was going off every five minutes because we hardly ever change the foil on our stove and it was full of burnt, smoky junk, and the soup REFUSED to boil after a half-hour on 'high', and my eyes were burning from the smoke/excessive cutting of green onion.

  But, anyhoo, we finally put the potato bits in the soup, and I smiled, thinking how they had magically made the milk-flour mixture become something delicious last week. And so I stirred it, humming happily, and. . . Viola! The soup became a milk-flour mixture with a couple potato bits floating in it!

  I was really about to lose my cool, what with the smoke alarm screeching for the seventh time, "THESE PEOPLE ARE MORONS! THEY CANNOT COOK!" so our neighbors could judge us, and the non-soup still refusing to boil, and in desperation, McKay suggested I add "instant  mashed potatoes". I was disgusted with this solution initially, but I did what had to be done.

  It was not pretty. It looked like a watery oatmeal with green onions on top. I sighed and took a sip of juice.

  "It's like flavored water." I said in despair.

  "Did you add all the potato mix? We should add some more." McKay suggested.

 "I was talking about the JUICE." I snapped.

  "Oh. Well, guess you know how I feel about the soup, then." McKay said.

  Guess who's making dinner tomorrow?