I sometimes wonder if I’m plagued with one of those alphabet disorders like “OCD” or “ADD” that are favorite topics of morning talk shows. Or maybe the wiring in my brain temporarily short-circuits, causing the bimbo wires to mingle and override the common sense wires. Usually I come to the conclusion that my reasoning abilities have simply expanded their creative horizons.
Regardless of the underlying cause, Kraft Macaroni & Cheese seems to trigger a response that makes me assign human characteristics to macaroni.
Many of us have personified an inanimate object by pointing out the “shapely legs” of a chair, or by calling an old pickup truck “a good old girl,” but I’ve expanded the bounds of anthropomorphism one step further. I act as though dried pasta has feelings.
This eccentricity happens when I open a box of macaroni and pour the contents into a pot on the stove. I imagine the stranded pieces of pasta, glued to the bottom of the box, are devastated at being left behind while their box mates go on to seek their destinies; tumbling and boiling together, soon to be a satisfying meal for hungry diners. I feel sorry for the macaroni left behind and find myself ripping open the box to free them, scraping away the remnants of glue and cardboard, then pushing them onto their boiling center stage.
These elbow-shaped tubes have been together since they were first extruded from Kraft’s giant pasta machines, then spread onto conveyor belts to dry. Can’t you just see the blue and yellow Kraft boxes, newly crimped and formed, jockeying for position; their labels facing the same direction, ready to be filled with newly made macaroni? One by one, cheese packets are added, boxes are sealed, then packed into larger boxes for shipping. By the time the macaroni reach my stove, I imagine how disappointed these pasta orphans must be, stuck to the bottom of the box and denied their birthright of being “the cheesiest.”
Maybe I’ve watched too many dancing boxes of popcorn and singing colas while waiting for a movie to start. However, I take comfort in something the great architect, Louis Kahn, said. “A brick wants to be something more than a brick. It wants to be a great building.” Macaroni wants to be more than a dried glutinous mass. It wants to be a meal, amazing and creamy until the last bite.
I remember confessing my feelings about macaroni to James. He said, “Bimbos and macaroni have a lot in common. They both want to be more than they are, but their brains are stuck to the bottom of the box.”
21 Comments
You are the loveliest and most creative woman I know in any and all possible circumstances. You see the joy and possibilities in every thing you see. Either I’m coming to Texas to hang out with you in your hacienda and ranch or we need to book serious time to ruminate together in person next time you’re back my way. ❤️ Joyce
Hi Joyce,
Thank you for the sweet words. I was stunned to see you with a mic in your hand at Kelly’s bash. How ironic: The two opportunities we’ve had to talk, and I’m flying out the door. We WILL remedy that. xoxox, Brenda
As you know, women of a certain age have lived MANY lives. You got to see some of my earlier ones the other evening! Yes, we must remedy the getting together thing!
Ha ha ha ha this is kinda awesome! So was James’s comparison! Thx for a chuckle.
James was a hoot. I miss that. xoxox, Brenda
Hi Brenda,
Congratulations on a funny piece!
Janice
Thank you! Glad you thought it was funny!
I want what you’re drinkin’!
You’re cute! xoxox, Brenda
Hahaha! Love the comparison!
I bet I’m the only person whose ever compared bimbos to macaroni. What a dubious achievement! Hahaha!
Haha! James had one hell of a way with words!
I’ll never look at a box of macaroni and cheese in the same way again…”Pasta Orphans.”
I know… It’s weird, but I felt sorry for them. xoxox, Brenda
LOL, love it! You remind me of my husband, who always got upset when he saw an IKEA commercial years ago where they were throwing out an old lamp and leaving on the curb for pickup. Yes, he felt sad for the lamp!
Yay! Laurel, either I’m not as crazy as I think I am, or your husband was just as crazy. Either way, thanks for your note. It made me feel better. xoxox, Brenda
Hi Nancy! I think I’m with Barbara Hammond….I want to know what you’re “drinkin'” I can honestly say I have never wondered about those shells of macaroni. But your photo did sorta make me hungry! ~Kathy
Kathy,
Maybe that’s my problem. I don’t drink much! Hahaha, Brenda
I would tend to agree you are bit crazy in a wonderful way. I will never eat macaroni again without thinking of this.
Hi Pat,
I’ll take that as a compliment. Thank you! Brenda
You made me smile, Brenda! What an imagination you have. 🙂
Hi Corinne,
That was the goal. Some weeks I want to make you think about things or introduce you to interesting people. After the long, serious interview with Sherry Lansing, I thought something silly was in order. Thanks! Brenda