The mac n’ cheese story

I have an update on my friend recently diagnosed with breast cancer. She had her surgery and is doing great. She looks great. She feels great. I’m proud to report she rejected the treatment suggested by her first doctor — a mastectomy — and instead found a doctor who would do a simple excision.

I e-mailed her when her surgery was scheduled, asking if i could take dinner over for her family that night. She e-mailed back that her daughter requested I not make mac n’ cheese.

She said I knew why. I do.

I was having company for dinner one night when my son was a baby. My guests had told me that their children were finicky eaters, but that they would eat macaroni and cheese.

I put the grown-up meal to simmer and set to making the mac n’ cheese 15 minutes before my guests were to arrive. Uh-oh. I had used all the milk in my main dish.

There was no running to the store. By the time I scraped the ice off the windshield, shoveled the drive and warmed the engine people would be here. Further, the baby was sleeping in his crib.

And it seemed ridiculous to purchase milk from a cow, when I had several cups of human milk, for free, right there in my bra.

Naturally, I pulled out the measuring cup, undid my blouse and squirted out a quarter cup — quickly, hoping my guests weren’t running early.

That family never knew what I did.

Apparently this story scares children, who grow up afraid to eat my cooking.



2 Responses to “The mac n’ cheese story”

  1. Myles Says:


  2. Stats « Stories O' Mine Says:

    […] Even in Pain, I’m a Smartass joins The Mac n’ Cheese Story and six other worthier posts with one click […]

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