I was going to make a whole long story here about my sneaking suspicion that my moms brain has atrophied significantly in the past week or so, but my writing isn't interesting enough, and neither is the material.
Instead, I'll just recount tonights experience in the kitchen, whereupon I was helping her cut the greenbeans. When I asked her what was for dinner, she didn't really respond with more then a vacant facial expression. She then proceeded to douse the greenbeans in soy sauce and plopped a can of year old valencia oranges on top of them. She warmed it up in the microwave and put it atop spicy mexican rice. What in the SHIT? I was sort of horrified...less by the ingredients she chose and more by the mechanical precision with which she wove this shit-cake tapestry. As if this was an actual thought out recipe made for human consumption.
The leftover piece of chicken was my touch...the only salvagable part of dinner.
My mom's seriously lost it. This sucks.
Instead, I'll just recount tonights experience in the kitchen, whereupon I was helping her cut the greenbeans. When I asked her what was for dinner, she didn't really respond with more then a vacant facial expression. She then proceeded to douse the greenbeans in soy sauce and plopped a can of year old valencia oranges on top of them. She warmed it up in the microwave and put it atop spicy mexican rice. What in the SHIT? I was sort of horrified...less by the ingredients she chose and more by the mechanical precision with which she wove this shit-cake tapestry. As if this was an actual thought out recipe made for human consumption.
![P2070048.jpg](http://www.freephotohost.com/28/P2070048.jpg)
The leftover piece of chicken was my touch...the only salvagable part of dinner.
My mom's seriously lost it. This sucks.