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Food Poem - Brainstorm
Macaroni
Macaroni and cheese
Macaroni and tomatoes
Macaroni killing the disposal in St. George
Macaroni killing the disposal in California
Macaroni necklace strung on yarn
Macaroni glued onto a paper in kindergarten and again onto an
empty soup can in 3rd grade
Macaroni Grille where I learned to say how are you in
Italian in the bathroom
Macaroni salad that Doug made for me when I was pregnant the
first time
Macaroni with food coloring, I can’t remember why.
Dumping the cheese into the boiling water along with the
Macaroni
Stuck a feather in his hat and called it macaroni
Elbow macaroni that looks nothing like my elbows
Macaroni used for a teeny straw
Top Ten Days of Macaroni
Day One: The day we ate macaroni and cheese AND macaroni and
tomatoes for dinner for the 134th time in my life. It was a staple in my house growing up. I guess we always had macaroni and we always
had cheese and tomatoes.
Day Two: The day my kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Wall, had us
glue macaroni to make a picture of a turkey.
I was very impressed with myself, even if my paper wrinkled with the
extra glue. And Eric Yoxtheimer showed us that if you smeared your fingers in
glue and let it dry you could make it look like you were peeling your fingers
off. Which was much more exciting than
the macaroni turkey.
Day Three: The day I made too much macaroni for my big
family and had to throw it down the disposal, which coughed, spit, sputtered,
backed up, and then splutted it all out the sides of the pipes under the
sink. It took me 2 hours to clean up all
the soggy macaroni and well over a year to stop feeling guilty for ruining the
plumbing in the St. George family condo.
Day Four: The day I did it again in the Laguna Beach family condo. What was the definition of idiot?
Day Five: The day I made a macaroni necklace in Sunday
School. I’m sure it was a symbol of
salvation or charity or something. I
just remember it was hard to get the red yarn through the curvy holes and when
we were done, the yarn left fuzz on my tongue when I tried to crunch the
macaroni while I waited for Sunday dinner.
Day Six: The day I glued macaroni to an empty Campbell’s Tomato Soup can
to make a pencil holder for my mom. Even
though I worked for many tedious minutes in 3rd grade art class to
get the macaroni design just right, it still didn’t turn out to be worthy of
how much I loved My Mom.
Day Seven: The day I went with my friends to Macaroni
Grille. The day I tasted balsamic oil
and vinegar on French bread. The day I
wrote on the table cloth in crayons. The
day I learned how to say how are you in Italian.
Day Eight: The day my sisters and I were babysitting our
little brothers and discovered that if you got your head clear down by the bowl
of milk, you could use a macaroni for a straw.
Day Nine: The day I noticed that elbow macaroni looks
nothing like my elbows. Or anyone else’s
for that matter.
Day Ten: The day when I was big enough to make dinner, but
not big enough to know that I should take the cheese packet out before I dumped
the box into the boiling water.
Day Eleven: The day when I was in my first trimester and
green as the old carpet and Doug made me his mission-famous macaroni
salad. I haven’t been able to look at
any macaroni salad the same way since.
Okay, eleven. And
overall, macaroni has been a general disappointment in my life, but maybe I’ve
just been using it the wrong way.
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