
The word potluck makes me anxious, even now that I am old enough to have scheduling conflicts.
I can still feel the warm weight of paper plates sagging precariously in my hands,
Odd juices running together as I make my way
Across gray, industrial tiles,
Fluorescent lights blazing upon:
Norwegian Chop Suey
Potato salad slathered in Miracle Whip and pickle relish
Jello with grated carrots and cottage cheese
Fruit salad with Cool Whip and marshmallows
Hamburger Helper
Broccoli with Cheez Whiz
“Hot Dish”
Anything involving a can of cream of something soup
Or canned peas
And then, at the end,
Mincemeat pie.
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In case you’re wondering “Wait! What’s wrong with pie?”…let me assure you that real mincemeat pie involves meat. Like rump steak and beef suet. As well as piles of sugar and raisins. Don’t believe me? Click here for a recipe.
This is hilarious! I’ve been to plenty of potlucks myself. Normally, I try to look on the bright side (I really liked that pink fluffy stuff). Thanks for giving me leave to consider the horror of a potluck:)
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Thanks, Amy! If I get roped into another, I’ll give the fluffy pink stuff a go.
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