With Pinterest, you can redecorate your home with eye-catching new ideas and pick out tasty new recipes for what to make for dinner.
Because soon enough, they will be back to algebra, "Lord of the Flies" and I will wonder, once again, what to make for dinner.
And by the end of an especially decision- or action-packed day (or week, or month), even choosing what to eat for dinner can seem like a struggle.
Anyway, here's what Bill made for dinner one week after bringing home his cookbook, having waited until an afternoon when I was gone so that he could conduct a stealth sortie into the kitchen: Oven-Roasted Tri-Tip.
We don't want to think of our gadgets as a window into the soul, or to worry about how our neighbors are influencing what we eat for dinner, or to believe that our movie preferences can be summarized by an equation.
He would raise his nose and sniff the air to see if he could guess what his wife had cooked for dinner, and then he went in to her, finding her always in the same posture, making him tea, fanning the fire in the hearth.
At dinner parties, what passes for political talk is not about the presidential primaries or NATO air strikes, exactly, but about what these events will do to stock prices.
Early last year, around the time Yahoo was worth twice what General Motors was, I threw a dinner party for the author Michael Lewis at our FORBES digs in Silicon Valley.
When we're at dinner, we ask them, what did you eat for lunch?
That's what Ravens wide receiver Jacoby Jones' mother, Emily, presented the Baltimore players for dinner this week at the team hotel to kick off Super Bowl prep New Orleans-style.
So while he was only mildly annoyed that we ended up donating twice what we had planned, he was mostly irritated that I bought a dinner party for six people to be held at someone's house a half-hour away.
When we arrive for dinner, one exclusively male table is just finishing lunch and taking receipt of what appear to be minihamburger petit fours.
What aging white wouldn't prefer to be greeted by a nice plate of macaroni and cheese for dinner, and cookies for dessert, rather than a suspicious looking array of injera and wat, served in a colorful basket and requiring no silverware, with raw slices of un-American fruits like "mango" on the side?
Maybe what is bad is for parents feeling like it is not OK to say they have to be home for dinner.
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