Food Network

There is a box of Ritz crackers next to the sink. I know why they're there: J.C. made scalloped corn, and the crackers are for the topping. (If scalloped corn sounds a little plebian...she also made some kind of salmon puffs, a batch of chorizo pinwheels, and an artichoke-and-goat-cheese concoction that will fill little wonton wrappers, all of which are a little more delicate and flavorful than scalloped corn. Honestly, though, I like scalloped corn, that staple of holiday banquet tables here in the Midwest, but I don't like it as much as my brother likes, say, green bean casserole. That guy, who also happens to be a chef, loves him some green bean casserole).

But I digress.

There is a box of Ritz crackers next to the sink. I glanced at it once, while I was filling a glass with water, and some small part of my brain registered the fact that Rachael Ray was on the box of Ritz crackers. I didn't think about it too much, but then, while I was brewing a late-afternoon cup of coffee, I looked at the box of Ritz crackers again, and I was like, "Rachael Ray is on the box of Ritz crackers." She's holding a tray filled with snacks, and smiling the way only Rachael Ray can smile. What bothers me more than the fact that Rachael Ray is on the box of Ritz crackers is the fact that I noticed it once without having it really register. Next thing you know, Paula Dean is going to be smiling up at me from my tube of Jimmy Dean sausage, and I won't even notice. Or Sandra Lee is going to show up on my box of cereal, and I'll just tip that crazy lady upside down while I fill my bowl, and I'll put the box away, and go for the milk, without giving her [insert adjective here] face so much as a second glance.