Moss, is humor writer from Tennessee. She writes a
weekly human interest column about daily life and the funny
things that happen to everyone.
She has written for the Daily News of Kingsport, Griffin Journal,
Oakridge Now, Atlanta Woman Magazine, Aberdeen Examiner, Angleton
Advocate, and Smyrna AM, a supplement of the Murfreesboro Daily News
Journal. She has been
published by Voyageur Press, McGraw Hill, and the good folks
at Guidepost Books. Her articles have appeared in
numerous anthologies and other publications, both in print and online.
She is a
former board member and past Editor of the Columnists.com, website of the National Society of Newspaper
oldest and largest professional organization
for columnists. She is the Web Editor of
Humorists.com and a founder of the Southern Humorists writers'
organization. She is writer, editor, and webmaster of HumorColumnist.com.
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Online Since 1999
daughter has taken over the kitchen at my house. I donít know
why, - unless she was tired of eating frozen dinners. Actually,
I was getting a bit tired of them myself, so I didnít object
too much, though I was secretly a bit worried about what sort of
dinners she might cook.
Day one: Beef stew and biscuit. Right, I thought, it
probably will taste like dog food and kibble. Amazingly, it was
pretty good. We lapped it down without asking many questions and
waited for the second day.
Day two: Turkey and dressing. Turkey and it isnít even
Thanksgiving? She must have spent all day doing this. Well, I
have to work and donít have time for roasting turkeys and
tossing bread cubes. We ate it up and praised her cooking
Day three: Chicken and dumplings. Ugh! I remember how my
mother made dumplings, all soggy and gooey. Thatís why I never
bother with them. But these dumplings were light, fluffy and
delicious. This kid can cook I decided, wondering where she got
the recipe. Not from her grandma, thatís for sure.
Day four: Southwest chili and cornbread. This canít
possibly be good, I figured. How would she know how to make
chili? Thatís a specialty item. Where is she getting all the
groceries, anyhow? I was starting to suspect that she was
harboring a chef, hiding him in the attic and bringing him out
only during the day while I was working.
Day five: Chicken Casserole. Tender cubes of chicken,
lightly floating in a creamy sauce with a medley of vegetables
and a crumb topping. This canít go on. If I didnít recognize
my own casserole dish, I would swear that she was sneaking in
food from a restaurant. But as long as Iím not buying, I might
as well eat and enjoy.
Day six. Okay, today is the day I find out whatís going
on around here. Iím green with envy at the culinary delights
that have been parading through my kitchen. But she made
spaghetti today. Pretty much anyone can cook spaghetti with a
simple meat sauce. Yes, it was good, but whatís going on
during the days when Iím not at home?
Day seven: Sneaked into the kitchen at night with a
flashlight. Opened the cabinet and discovered the secret at
last. A row of red boxes cleverly called complete classic
dinners. So thatís the secret! Cans of vegetables, sauces,
envelopes of breadcrumbs and spices all packaged up in the same
They even include the meat! No slaving over the hot stove. No
worrying about putting elusive ingredients together. Itís all
packaged and ready to cook.
Well, thatís cheating! She didnít do any work at all!
So, am I going to let her know that Iíve been nosey and found
out the secret to the delectable exhibition of cuisine? Heck,
no! She might stop cooking. I sure donít want to go back to
those tasteless frozen dinners or the long, tiring process of
cooking a meal after a hard dayís work. Some things are best
left alone. Besides, one of those boxes said, "Chicken Pot
Pie". Thatís my favorite.
So, I set the table, offer to do the dishes, give her a gift
certificate for groceries, buy her a new set of pots and throw
in money for a new apron while sheís out shopping anyhow. Then
I retire to my computer while mysterious clinking sounds come
from the direction of the kitchen and delicious odors float down
What do I care where the food is coming from? The main thing is
I donít have to cook it!
Copyright 2003 Sheila Moss
Nashville, TN 37219
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