Monday night I somehow ended up making dinner for Old Man Bobby and his mother Mary. Mary was trying to figure out what kind of chicken to make. I told her I had a recipe. Suddenly dinner was all me. Um, I don’t really cook. I cooked for OMB once, other than just heating stuff up, and he made a classic blunder.

Question: When someone makes you dinner do you?

a) Smile and say, “Thank you, for dinner.”

b) Shrug and say, “It’s good. Not the best, but it’s good.”

c) Pray you say a) because if you say b) you’re never going to live it down.

Anyway, <ahem> I warned OMB within an inch of his life. Mary thought it was hilarious that I was coaching him on what he could say. She thought it was even more hilarious when the first thing out of OMB’s mouth when we sat down to eat was, “I’ll avoid the onions.” That was not in the script.

Sorry, I got distracted by the bus I was throwing OMB under. The tile of this post is Chicken Paprikash and Miracles. Paprikash is obviously what I made for dinner, and it was a success (a miracle in itself). OMB even said I should make it again soon. The miracle happened when just before dinner was ready I started doing some dishes. OMB came right in and said, “Let me do that; you made dinner.” I still hear angels sing when I think about it.

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