Macaroni and Cheese

When I was on my mission in Taiwan, I ate a lot of weird things. And sometimes I would get these cravings for American food--nothing fancy, just things like peanut butter and jam sandwiches or macaroni and cheese.

Ironic, I know, because for many missionaries that is all they eat on their missions.

One day my companion and I did a huge favor for the elders (which included riding our bikes and supplying them with water, maps, a knee brace, and a cell phone as they ran a marathon one preparation day). One of the elders had gotten a package from his mother, and in gratitude for us saving their lives he gave us a box of macaroni and cheese.

My companion and I were ecstatic.

We saved the macaroni and cheese for a very special day (actually just the one day in three months that we were at our apartment for lunch) and then made it.

It was delicious.

I swear I have never eaten such wonderful macaroni and cheese in my life. I wish I could show you the picture I took of it, but I must have taken it with my companion's camera because I can't find it. Just know that I dreamed about that macaroni and cheese for the rest of my mission.

Yesterday I was starving and, remembering the deliciousness of the macaroni and cheese from my mission, when I got home I made some macaroni and cheese. And I came to a startling conclusion.

I no longer love macaroni and cheese.

I think this is a sign of growing up--or just a sign of the decadence that I am able to indulge in while living in America. When macaroni and cheese tastes repulsive to me, I know I have too many options.

But don't worry, I still eat tuna on toast...