I just told the Maud list that I have to rush off to the store and buy Miracle Whip for Kip, who is otherwise a perfect husband but can't eat a turkey sandwich without this evil, slimy stuff. My friend Nansie responded thusly:

Poor Betsy, I have a Miracle Whip husband, too. (That sounds nasty, and not in a good way.)

I would like to share what son Pearce said about Miracle Whip back when he was in the 4th grade or so (he’s 24 now):

"It tastes like old people smell."

Enough said.

Quite enough, yes. But I am amusing myself with the possibilities inherent in the phrase "Miracle Whip husband."

Actually, it might make a quite good country song:

"Well, I've got a Miracle Whip husband,
He eats the stuff with a spoon ...
He's a miracle in many other ways,
But this crap makes me hurl in a spittoon."

Or maybe not.