Treat yourself, have some gefilte fish....

Every so often I make the mistake of admitting to my grandmother that I haven't gone grocery shopping in a month and don't know what I'm going to eat when I get home from work. I'll be walking out of the building, call Grandma to say hi and unless there's any news, within a block I've been asked what I'm having for supper. It's actually exciting when I have the correct answer. I'll proudly describe the balanced, nutritious meal I will be eating later. Grandma will be happy and all will be right with the world. But if I don't, I can either lie and all will be right with the world, or tell the truth and suffer the consequences. The consequences often consist of audible worry and suggestions of canned fish. "Rachel, have you got a can of sardines? You take that with a nice slab of onion. It's deLISCHious and it's good for you." And sometimes it's jarred. Like the voicemail I got last week, (complete with pauses so perfect that I sometimes accidently respond to the recorded questions): "Rachel, you don't have to call me back, honey. Have you got a jar of gefilte fish home?...... You know, that with a little coleslaw and chrain (horseradish) and a piece of bread or matza......But alright, I took a piece of gefilte fish. I don't know, I hope it's good. Rachel, treat yourself, no matter what they charge you for the gefilte fish, take it. Alright, Mrs. whats-her-name, Adler, you know the sweet fish is good......"