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Baby, It’s Cold Outside

Today was overcast and rainy. I stayed in the office for lunch, forgoing my desire for Panera’s French Onion Soup. I could eat their French Onion Soup everyday. It would have been yummy on a cold, drizzly day like this. When I left work, I couldn’t see the top of the arch because of the low rain clouds.

So, when we got home, I fixed soup for dinner. Chris is working late (he doesn’t think soup is a meal, to him, it’s more of an appetizer, which is really a double standard because he’s cajun and he loves gumbo and etouffee, which are SOUPS!!! Don’t try to say they are not . . . they are! And what about a bisque — that’s a soup, too! You just serve all of them over rice, so I guess I could sneak soup by you as long as I serve it over rice.) so the soup thing totally worked. I have convinced the boys that soup is yummy. In fact, we have a song about it:

(To the tune of Frere Jacques)
Soup is yummy, soup is yummy. Soup soup soup. Soup soup soup.
Soup is yummy, soup is yummy. Soup soup soup. Soup soup soup.

Of course, Chris counters my propaganda technique with this version:

Soup is yucky, soup is yucky. Soup soup soup. Soup soup soup.
Soup is yucky, soup is yucky. Soup soup soup. Soup soup soup.

Or he mimics the Soup Nazi from Seinfeld. Either way, he attempts to dissuade my children from enjoying a hot bowl of soup.

I’m going to have to pull out all the stops and begin publishing my own propaganda pamphlets and posters with images of Uncle Sam holding a hot, steaming bowl of soup. I will rename French Onion soup something more patriotic like Vidalia Onion Soup or Texas 1015 SuperSweet Soup. It could get ugly.

Soup is yummy.


2 Responses

  1. The apple falls RIGHT UNDER THE TREE. Anything over rice is a meal. And the whole cajun thing stumps me. How can you claim to be cajun when you don’t listen to the music, go to reunions (or whatever they call them) you do not look the part or speak the language? I love “Cajun” food but I don’t claim the culture. I have Shawnee in my blood line but I can’t shoot a bow and arrow!!!!!

  2. Being Cajun is a BIRTHRIGHT!!! Also, it is a state of mind. And, of course, it’s also a great way to pick up chicks! After all, it worked for me…
    For Dad, it’s easy: Born in Lafayette. For me, well, not only did both parents grow up a stone’s throw from the Sabine River, but as everyone knows, the Capital of Louisiana is Port Arthur, Tx. And I totally speak the language: gumbo, bisque, crawfish pie, AND I know what lagniappe means. “Laissez Le Bon Temps Roulet!” Oh, and pass the creole seasoning!

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