Damaif

You moms know what it's like. "What's for dinner?" And two minutes later, another voice pipes up, "So, what's for dinner?"

Once upon a time, when we had eight (count 'em, EIGHT) people living in our house (and one of them was ME), I was exhibiting some level of patience ...

... until I was asked for the EIGHTH time [remember, there were only seven other people in the house] "What's for dinner?"

I didn't have a recipe. I was putting together something that would be edible, nutritious, and hopefully tasty. It didn't have a name. But it was food. And I was tired of being asked. "Don't ask me again! It's food!"

And the ninth time [siiiiiigh] I was asked what supper would be, "ARGH! Don't ask me again! It's food."

And thus was born a new word: "DAMAIF."

D on't
A sk
M e
A gain
I t's
F ood.


"Mom, what's for supper?"
"Damaif."

Now the urchins will occasionally (at time when they are not valuing their lives) be foolish enough to ask, "So what kind of ingredients are in this damaif?" Naughty urchins.