don’t do it. just don’t.

I’m a sinner. I make mistakes. I flub up and wreck things and say stuff I shouldn’t and hurt people.

And a few months ago, I screwed up big time.

I insulted a chef.

It started out innocently. Marching through the line in the cafeteria at work, my colleague and I were deep in conversation. When the chef asked what I’d like for lunch, I pointed at one of the dishes and said, “I’ll have that . . . uh . . . situation, please.”

{Lesson 1: Maybe don’t call a chef’s dish by anything other than its proper name, just, you know, for the sake of world peace and all that.}

“Excuse me?” he said.

It seemed the room suddenly grew very quiet . . . and very cold. “Did you just call my food ‘a situation’?”

“Yes, but . . . I mean, it’s not a bad . . . I . . . no . . . it’s . . .”

{Lesson 2: Stop talking. You’re making it worse.}

He handed me my food and turned back to the next person. I exited the lunch line, my head hung low, shamed and suddenly not so hungry.

He teased me about it for weeks.

Well, he was half-teasing and half-disgruntled. And a third annoyed. And maybe a quarter frustrated. With an imperceptible percentage of incredulity over my poor choice of words tossed in for good measure.

Every time I saw him in the cafeteria or bought a lunch, it was the same: “Oh. It’s YOU.” or “Are you here to get more ‘situation’?” or “Sure you can stomach that sandwich I just made for you?”

{Lesson 3: See Lesson 1.}

I needed to make amends. The feuding needed to stop. If it kept up, the Hatfields and McCoys would look like child’s play. Books would be written about us. Wars would break out. Civilizations would crumble.

So I finally did the only thing I knew to do: I brought him a coffee mug.


If you look to the left of the sign, you’ll see it. It reads: “I heart the Situation.”

Never mind that I got it as a gag gift first from a friend. Or that it’s referring to the Situation from Jersey Shore. It was a peace offering of the most perfect kind. An olive branch of desperation, if you will.

And he loved it! And now it’s a proud part of his kitchen display. Heck, some days we can even joke about it.

Right after I ask if he’s going to spit in my food.

I’m a sinner. I screw up a lot. But I will never, ever, neverever order something off a menu using anything other than its exact name.

And unless you keep a steady supply of apropos coffee mugs stashed away in your kitchen, I’d encourage you to do the same.

Hey, I’m only here to help.


decide once and for all

I have concerns and questions. I’m a need-to-know kind of person.

I have to understand. I just do. It’s a thing.

And so I ask, should cornbread be eaten with a fork or with one’s fingers?

I ask because friends of mine and I have gone back and forth on this for, well, years now, and we really need to put this one to bed.

Just to be clear, my friends and I don’t sit around discussing the finer points of Emily Post’s etiquette books.

Ok, sometimes.

This time, though, it all stemmed from a dinner invitation to someone’s house where I was served stew and cornbread. The only available utensil on the table was . . . a soup spoon.

Now, I would certainly allow that you  CAN use your fingers to eat cornbread. But then again, you could also use a shovel, or your nose, or a page out of a book, or a small car if the hood was wide enough.

But should you?

My friends say, “Yes.”

I say, “No, you shouldn’t. And furthermore, any time anyone comes to your house, do them the courtesy of giving them all the possible utensil options.”

Now then, don’t let my opinion affect your answer.

No, really, don’t.

But seriously.


taco dip of deliciousness


The rest of the world may need quality time or words of affirmation, but carbs are my love language.



However, on rare occasions (that is to say, when my mother asks if I’ve eaten any fruits or vegetables since the last leap year), I eat some hummus or eggs or yogurt or something to try to even out my addiction to carbohydrates.

So while eating refried beans and sour cream is more delicious/fun/enjoyable/good in general, I’ll acquiesce this time (don’t get used to this) and recommend a healthy version of taco dip sure to please even the pickiest of eaters.

Step one: Mix 8 oz. plain Greek yogurt with 1 teaspoon salt-free taco seasoning.


Spread that onto a plate with a lip. Next layer on 8oz hummus. Now layer on 1/4 cup salsa.


Then add chopped tomato, sliced black olives, shredded romaine, and cheddar cheese.DSC_0286

The Greek yogurt can be a little runny, so don’t make this a day in advance. Unless you like hummus soup, and if you do, hey, who am I to judge?DSC_0287


Serve with carrots, cucumber slices, celery, pepper slices or . . . as is meet and right . . . tortilla chips.

Bon appacarbohydrates!

{Oh yeah, and if you think The Five Love Languages can help your marriage, I got news for you: This dip can do even more.}




8oz hummus
6oz plain Greek yogurt
1 teaspoon salt-free taco seasoning
1/4 cup salsa

chopped tomato
sliced black olives
shredded cheddar cheese
shredded lettuce
diced avocado


  1. Spread hummus on the bottom of a deep plate. Mix taco seasoning with Greek yogurt then spread on top of hummus. Dallop salsa on top followed by remaining toppings. Serve with tortilla chips and sliced/chopped fresh veggies.