At a restaurant, after trying to decide between a pasta or a salad appetizer:
Husband: I’m not going to suffer through a salad on my birthday.
Over lunch during his weekly visit:
Dad: Your blog’s getting kind of boring. I noticed you haven’t mentioned anything about me, lately. You know, people aren’t reading your blog for the recipes.
Also, I made asparagus soup last week, and the resident 4-year-old referred to it as “American Soup.” I like the name, and, in fact, never feel more American than I do while eating asparagus soup. Still, I’m not going to push for a name change since it might cause some confusion with the other “American Soup.” The one often served cold in the hillside grottos of Afghanistan.