Swedish SpaghettiPosted: July 12, 2013 | |
Bill and I were going out to dinner Wednesday evening while Mom’s granny nanny, Barbara, came over for a couple of hours. I pulled out a selection of Mom’s beloved Banquet TV dinners from the freezer and presented them to her, stacked in my arms so that she could read the labels along the side of each box. She pored over the choices for several moments, giving her selection the same thoughtful consideration she would if she were picking out a menu entrée from a fine dining establishment. She finally made up her mind, pointed to the winner and announced, “The meatballs!”
I extracted the box from the pile and headed for the kitchen so I could put it in the freezer, ready for Barbara to nuke after Mom’s shower. As I walked away, Mom sighed, “This will be good. I’ve been craving spaghetti.”
I stopped and turned the box so that I could see the picture of the tasty meal waiting inside. “Mom, this isn’t spaghetti, it’s Swedish Meatballs.”
“Well it has noodles, doesn’t it?” she asked.
“Yes, but not spaghetti noodles. They’re wide egg noodles.”
“Same thing,” she said, picking up the remote and the TV guide.
“But there isn’t any marinara. It’s covered with some kind of beige goop. This isn’t anything like spaghetti,” I exclaimed.
“Sure it is. It’s got meatballs and noodles and sauce. It’s the same thing even though it tastes different.”
“Okay,” I sighed. “I’ll have to remember that the next time I fix anything with noodles, like Chicken Soup. Or Mac and Cheese. I guess to you it’s all spaghetti.”
“Okay dokay,” she murmured as she fingered the remote buttons and landed on America’s Funniest Home Videos. “Six of one, seven of another.”