The curse of being a picky eater strikes again. I made dinner in the crock pot today and have been looking forward to eating it for 6-8 hours on low. But now that the time is up, I can’t eat it. I mean, look–look at my dinner:
It tastes like the mush they gave to Oliver Twist but no one is asking for more. Blah.
We’re forced to eat Twinkies for dinner. Well, the boys and I are. Darling Husband is determined not to waste the whole crock pot of Oliver Twist Mush and is in the middle of a flurry of adding different spices to see if he can salvage it. I can hear him from behind me muttering, “Yuck…no, not that one. Ew. Wait…Old Bay! Everything’s good with Old Bay.”
Good luck Darling Husband.