lasagna gratitude.

We were having lasagna. Josh's parents had been in town and had taken their two sons to Sam's Club, where they bought them a lot of food and toilet paper. They are concerned about their sons, and think that they eat ramen noodles every day. Josh actually eats pretty well. He gets homemade bread and chicken pot pie and salmon, and that was just last weekend. But I suspect that his parents' fears are not without grounds when it comes to his brother. The boy eats a lot of Chef Boyardee.

So the lasagna was a giant frozen one. I got there at 6 pm and by 7, I was starting to get the irritability associated with hunger. The lasagna took two hours to make. I could have made one in one hour. I complained more loudly than I should have about that fact.

Finally, it was ready, and I attacked a giant piece with gusto. I love lasagna. It's all the best stuff in an Italian dish, plus it's layered. Isn't it nice when your food is orderly? I took the first bite and suddenly, it all came crashing back to me that store-bought frozen lasagna does not taste the same as what I make. In fact, it's a lot like Chef Boyardee, but in a giant foil pan. But I ate it without complaint, because I was hungry, if not gracious.

Later, Josh and I were alone, and I was unable to hold it in any longer.

"That lasagna wasn't nearly as good as mine."

"Thank you for not saying that during dinner."

I was insulted. Did he really think that I would have said something so ungrateful? What kind of person does he think I am? And besides, didn't he agree that my lasagna was a million times better than the stuff we had just eaten? I thought back to the processed and fake taste of the lasagna, how I'd had to struggle not to comment about how awful it was compared to...

"You know me pretty well."

He started laughing. "You were really fighting it the whole time, weren't you?"

"Well, it wasn't very good, now was it?"

"No, you're right, it wasn't." He kissed me, and I felt like I won, because even though deep down inside, I really am a terrible ingrate, I have someone who knows that and loves me anyway. It must be because I make such awesome lasagna.