Going back to last week.... we had a Christmas party for an organization I...well...organize. At this party, we had spaghetti. It was the most delicious spaghetti I'd had in a very long time. The host of the party gave me a container of the spaghetti sauce she had prepared along with a full bag of uncooked spaghetti noodles. I brought them home, and the next day (for lunch) I had spaghetti. I opened the package, left it on the counter after cooking some, and figured that someone else would probably want some too since my family kept asking what I was eating and what smelled so good.
What I didn't know is that my son decided that just putting the opened package of noodles on top of the stacks of cans would be A-OK. Well, it wasn't.
Back to the story.... I open the pantry side that is over our bed and my husband already knows to take cover because sometimes cans will fall down. What we didn't expect was the package of spaghetti noodles to be tilted back towards the opening of the door and get hit with a barrage of spaghetti noodles.
I was helpless as the nearly full bag of noodle spilled continuously onto my husband's head, stabbing him with it's pointy little pasta straws in the back of the head, shoulders, and even some going down his back and into his butt-crack.
Of course, I erupt into complaints and gripes over the ignorance and lazy effort of putting up an opened package of noodles and just laying them on top of cans without consideration to them spilling everywhere. Once I was done complaining, I realized I hadn't asked my poor husband if he was injured or not.
"Honey? Are you alright?"
"Yeah. I'm fine. Just got some spaghetti stuck in my beard and butt crack. That's all."
I couldn't help it. I broke up laughing and had tears rolling down my face.
"Can you imagine the ER trip for that one? 'Sir, how did you lose an eye again?' ... 'I was attacked by spaghetti noodles. It was a trap. My wife went for pears and the noodles were launched.' .... (Nurse) 'We need a room on the psych ward prepared. We've got a real loon on our hands here!'"
Needless to say, the noodles have been safely packed away, but we're still finding noodle pieces in the bed here and there. *sigh*
Well, I had all but forgotten about this blog when I finally realized that I honestly have far too much to talk about, so much in fact that Facebook can't handle me, and my friends keep missing out of the good stuff. So here I am again, but this time... the stories will be more recent, with a splash of the funny things I recall and experienced over time.
Without further ado.... a few bits that happened between yesterday and today.
I don't like to cook, and I don't hate to cook either. It is a mood thing, entirely. If the mood strikes, I will be up at 3am baking or cooking something that takes me 4 or 5 hours to make - just because I'm weird like that. Other times, I decide I'm tired of what we've been eating for dinner for the past two months and it's time for the menu to get a little flare. (Literally sometimes...)
Last night we had hamburgers. We like sweet potatoes, and so I thought, hmm.. I need to make sweet potato fries. So I looked up recipes and found one that did pretty good with simple directions. (By the way... I figured out that there is zero difference between a sweet potato and a yam... except one is how the Northerners say it, and one is how the Southerners say it - Americans that is.) So, I proceed to chop my taters up into quarter inch lengths and then placed them into ice cold water for 15 minutes. I heated up my oil, and while I normally bake everything, I decided this time I'd try fried. Big mistake....
The first spoon full of taters I pulled from the water (and drained/dabbed with a paper towel) were apparently TOO cold. The second they hit the oil, the oil sprung to life in a violent rolling, bubbling mess. I cook on open flame. You can kind of figure what happened next. But I'll describe it anyway.....
*I jump back... *
"OHHHH!!! CRAP!!! FIRE!!! FIRE!! HONEY... THE STOVE IS ON FIRE!! GET THE EXTINGUISHER!!"
*Picks up pot holder and beats the stove like if I wave something around at the fire, it'll get scared and go away.*
*Husband scrambles around the corner. By this time the fire went out*
"Flipping crackers on a stick!!! That was crazy! I almost burned my eyebrows off. I think my arm hairs are...." *sniffs arm* "yep... I singed my arm hairs.. gah.. that stinks!"
*House fills with smoke*
Hubby: "Does this mean dinner is done now?"
Me: *Gives evil eye*
So... yeah.. I won't be making sweet potato fries like THAT anymore. LOL! However, I did finish the batch and everyone loved them. Oh, and no damage was done from the small stove fire, so that was even better.
While my cooking adventure, today, went well - it was while I was cooking that I overheard my 13 yr old son, Nathaniel, chatting with a friend over voice chat in a game he was playing. It went like this...
Nate: "Ok, is 7pm tomorrow good for you? We'll make the run through there then, if you want."
Friend: "Yeah man.. sounds good. OK, I've gotta go. I gotta go kick an elf. See ya."
Nate: "OK man..." *moment of silence...* "Wait... what? What did you say? Hey? You still there?"
Meanwhile I am still listening and at that moment I poked my head around the corner..
"Did he say he was going to kick an elf?"
Nate: "I don't think he really said that, but it sounded like it. I wonder what the elf did to deserve getting kicked for?"
LOL!! We'll have to wait until tomorrow to find out what his friend really said, I suppose. In the mean time, let's hope no elves were harmed. LOL!
Until next time.....