I woke up this morning to the doorbell ringing. The sound woke me from the dream I was having and I fully expected to see the police at my door. Turns out it was the gas company wanting to read the meter.

I was dreaming about a terrorist on the loose in my old neighborhood. Like most dreams, this took place on Route 39-the house my grandfather built, the house I grew up in…I was responsible for keeping everyone inside the house because the terrorist man, who was disguised in a floral dress (drag?) was coming…of course being so irresponsible, the people and children did not listen to me and stay in the house and instead went running all over our yard, which was an amusement park with roller coasters and cotton candy stands. The police were very angry with me for letting all the people out when the terrorist was obviously on his way to release a dirty bomb! I could see the terrorist man coming by looking out of my kitchen window, he was waaaaaay back on the road over, past the vineyard…(the place where I could look out the window as a kid and see the yellow school bus coming up the street. I knew when I saw the bus that I had at least 5 more minutes to get my sneakers for gym, my lunch money and run out to the maple tree to catch the bus.) So when the police started to question me, I yelled at them telling them they still had time to catch him they should stop hassling me! I also explained that I understood that the people would rather ride the roller coaster and have fun, I couldn’t stop them from leaving my house and living their lives… and if something was going to happen, we might as well die happy.

And then I woke up. Freaky. The GAS company was at the door…hmmmm. No really, the weird thing about this dream is 1. Terrorist in drag? Huh? and 2. As most dreams do, it took place at my childhood home…mind you I am an adult, I was an adult in my dream, but I still was HOME. And this isn’t even odd anymore, almost all dreams where I am at home, mean I am at the house I grew up in…

Hmmmm. I will not eat another Nestles Crunch Ice Cream Bar while falling asleep to The Nanny…before going to bed tonight!

And now on to my macaroni salad.

I enjoy making the Smith macaroni salad. As with all cooking, I forget I am making it for only one. An entire box of Elbows fills my VERY LARGE Cocoa Pfaltzgraff Serving Bowl. (not actual picture my pattern has been discontinued.) There are only two things I dislike about making the salad. FIRST I hate cutting and peeling veggies. Hate hate hate this chore. I am no good at peeling…or ironing, but that is another story. And no, I can’t buy them pre-chopped. Not my ingredients. The store has chopped green peppers and onions in a bag (Smith salad does not use peppers) and a mix of celery and carrots (Smith salad does not use carrots) So? I am stuck chopping the celery, radishes, scallions, cucumbers…all on my own. SECOND thing I hate is waiting for the salad to “congeal” The miracle whip and tuna and boiled eggs need to gel together. So now, after an hour of chopping…I wait…hungry. (Or would that be hungrily?)