Answer 103 - I've walked the Lutefisk Corridor 39 times

I laughed for an hour just now, listening to my friend, Maureen, tell stories of her childhood.

It sounded magical... apple pies baked in the wood stove that heated the whole house.. a wonderful, forgetful mother who held Easter in August because that's when she found the hidden eggs... even the grandmother who had the children stop and kneel in front of the TV whenever the Pope came on.. even that..


Which got me thinking on mine.  My childhood. I wouldn't say 'magical,' and probably anyone who's read what I've written along the way wouldn't assume 'magical.'  Possibly, 'colorful'  or in some cases, 'questionable' - but probably not magical.


Still... there was the lutefisk - the stuff my Norwegian grandmother made that smelled like a boiling mop.  My in-law uncles would stand around, drinking Budweiser from a can and smoking Winston Reds, while the fumes wafted from my grandma's trailer...  They'd shuffle, they'd cough, they'd jingle change in their pockets, knowing that, eventually, they'd have to go inside and eat some of the godawful stuff.

Tonight, Ben referred to it as 'Walking the Lutefisk Corridor' - a phrase I'll never forget, and will apply to many situations from here on out.


So - how many times and in how many ways have each of us Walked the Lutefisk Corridor?

You know, the Lutefisk Corridor - the things you do because:
1) Things will go very badly with your spouse if you don't  OR
2) You'll cause enormous familial rift if you don't  OR
3) The proponent of said atrocity is a relative of someone you'd like to know intimately OR
4) You're not clever enough to plot an escape route

Me, I count 39 times.  But it ain't half-over yet.