Nooooo Touching!

Nooooo Touching!

If you haven't already guessed from my previous stories, my husband is a little bit set in his ways.  Oh gosh, I love him to death, but sometimes I really wonder about him.  From the title of this post I can just imagine what you are thinking but you are going to be surprised.  Seriously, don't go where your mind is taking you.

I want you to picture a really nice home cooked dinner - of course it has to be meat and potatoes, (what else? right?) anyway, so let's say pork chops, mashed potatoes, green beans and applesauce.  Sounds yummy!  The meal gets served up nicely on a plate but --- one little lone rebel green bean rolls and just barely grazes the mashed potatoes.  OH - MY - GOODNESS!!!!!!  It's touching!  Nooooo Touching!!

Have you ever seen the TV show Monk?  Well my husband is not as bad as Monk about anything except his food.  With food, he's Monk's twin.  Nothing on his plate can touch each other.  I find that so absolutely hysterical.   I mean really, what does he think happens to it when it goes in his stomach?  Or maybe his stomach has little compartments and the green beans go in the green bean compartment and the mashed potatoes go in the mashed potato compartment, etc.

The other day on Facebook, I saw a little ad for a plate portion size tool.  It was this round plastic object that had circles cut out of it and it is meant to help a person watching their weight serve themselves the appropriate portion sizes.  But I got another idea for it.  There must be other people out there that don't like their food to touch - at least I hope there are because if there aren't then he  would be really weird and that's kind of scary - anyhoo - this little plate portion tool could be used to keep those rebel green beans under control and in their proper place.  And no more wandering applesauce.  No more touching!  Ha!  I think I just might have something! 

Unfortunately, my daughter-in-law tells me this amazingly absurd, and slightly weird trait has been passed down to her husband, our son.  Could there possibly be a Nooooo Touching gene????
Hmmmmm?  I wonder??