In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning.
With less three and a half days left until our month-long hiatus in Seattle, Ian and I live on the precarious edge of refrigerator emptiness. Thus, this afternoon I looked in the refrigerator and found:
Cooked cubed chicken breast
In the cabinet my roving eye alighted upon Cream of Mushroom Soup, generic Chicken Spices, and slightly dried-out bread. After some serious mother-in-law consultation (I believe in consulting experts when my expertise is exceeded), a deliciously unscripted dinner was born.
Today marks a landmark in my marriage, indeed, in my life as an adult woman, for today I have formed a casserole solely from our sorry leftovers. I can only hope this meal will go down in the family lore as a success, rather than ranking along with my parents’ infamous Pumpkin Surprise and Chicken Vertebrae Stew.
Update: It tasted fine, despite my attempt to “golden” the breaded top. Our household conneseur said he found it a tad runny, but generally a fine way to consume leftover broccoli. My fine apron is courtesy of Nora.