Thursday, 24 November 2005
I ended up not going down to Kansas City this year for Thanksgiving. I usually ride down with my Aunt Mary, but her car and mine both conspired to keep us in town. Talking with my mom a few days ago, I told her that if we had the “mashed potato conversation” again this year, I was so going to put it on my Web site. She said to do it anyway:
It happens every year. We’re gathered at the table, someone has said grace (a story for another time), and people are loading thier plates. When the mashed potatoes come around I quietly pass them along. That’s when it starts.
Mom: “Don’t you want any mashed potatoes?”
Me: “I don’t like mashed potatoes.”
“When did you stop liking mashed potatoes?”
“I’ve never actually liked them. It’s not about anyone’s in particular, I just don’t care for them.” My mom’s are quite good, by mashed potato standards, but that doesn’t really change anything as far as I’m concerned.
“You used to eat them. When did you stop?”
“When I was 8 or 9, I think. Old enough to load my own plate and therefore pass them along quietly, without further comment.”
Except, it seems, for the annual mashed potato conversation.
I was thinking of going to lunch today at this awesome mashed potato place. Do you want to go with? I heard you love mashed taters!
That would be either Boston Market or Potbelly. Thanks, I’ll pass.
Grabbed dinner from KFC last night and instead of potato salad as one of the sides, they gave me mashed potatoes. Didn’t notice until I got home, so basically missed 1/3 of dinner.
Hey, I liked you little story, it was amusing
dude! how could you not like mashed potatoes!?!!?! they are like the absolute BEST food ever given to us by our pawents, you are like totally gag me with a spoon, to the max.