Standard American Diet, SAD indeed

Once upon a time, I liked my mother-in-law's hot bacon dressing. She's very Pennsylvania Dutch, and she makes a nice hot bacon dressing. But since she knows I like it, she makes it EVERY time she cooks dinner. Which is about once a month. I can tolerate hot bacon dressing once every six months. Or, say Thanksgiving and Easter. And I'm not a fan of meat, so to come home to a meaty smelling house is gross. 

My mother-in-law babysat my daughter from 11:30 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. in my house. They made cupcakes. And apparently, my mother-in-law cannot be bothered cooking for my daughter. Because she brought Martin's Wheat Potato bread, yeah, that's whole grain, and I'm sure she brought the cheapest possible cold cuts, pickles and chips for lunch. (That's why I pumped my kid full of broccoli before I left. AND a banana.) And this is dinner.

A pre-cooked chicken from Sam's Club yesterday. Mashed potatoes. And carrots drowned in butter. And iceburg lettuce with hot bacon dressing. Iceberg lettuce, empty calories. Nothing green. Plain potatoes, with nothing to jazz them up. Overcooked carrots. And that chicken. Also bland. Now, I might have been able to eat it had I not seen the leftover plate which my husband informs me she ripped to shreds with her bare hands. (WTF am I supposed to do with a plate of shredded chicken? Don't tell me soup. I HATE chicken broth. Maybe broccoli-chicken-cheddar pot pie. But I didn't buy the ingredients for pot pie.) It just looks gross.

So my husband obviously picked the nicest piece to offer to me, but I still can't bring myself to eat it. I'm tempted to take a flute of chartreuse instead. My husband says the liquor might make the dinner palatable.