A Lesson in Home-making

Two posts in one day? Why ever would you do that? you ask?

Well… I learned an important lesson today, and I felt compelled to share it with you.

It all started when I signed my post “time to go make dinner” or some other lame food-related excuse for ending a blog post.

I began getting ingredients around to make meatloaf for Tyler. Not being a huge fan of meatloaf myself, I also started assembling a homemade spaghetti O’s soup for myself after having seen a picture of it in my America’s Test Kitchen Healthy Family Recipes Cookbook. So I turned the oven on for Tyler’s meatloaf.

The smoke detector works, in case you were wondering.

Huh? What??? Sorry, I can’t hear you, you’ll have to speak up.

I think I lost 70% of my hearing just trying to figure out how to turn the darn thing off.

And then turning it off again.

And again.

And again.

And finally figuring out how to take the battery out of the stupid thing.

Pardon my language.

*SIGH*

AND THEN, as if that wasn’t annoying enough, I dropped an egg!!! Icky bacterial sliminess all over the kitchen counter, down the cabinets and on the floor.

Really? *sigh*

AND THEN I ran out of Lysol wipes! Me and Lysol wipes are co-dependents. Lysol would go out of business if it weren’t for me and I would go out of my mind if it weren’t for Lysol wipes. It’s not that I’m officially OCD. Just about raw meat and egg.

Unless it’s egg in cookie dough or brownie batter. Sugar and chocolate magically melt the bacteria away.

*clearing throat*

Anyway… why am I covered in tomatoes, you ask?

Well, it could be because I decided to have a food fight with my imaginary friend George.

Or, it could be because I got sprayed by a skunk on my way out to get the mail today.

Or, it could be my new home remedy spa therapy I was reading about last week.

But, sad to say, it is none of those things. It is my dinner. My homemade spaghetti O goodness. “Pour the [boiling hot] soup in a blender to puree carrots, onion, and tomatoes.” 

Hmmm I think to myself.  This blender sure is awfully full. Maybe I better pulse it, just in case it ends up starting to come out.

“Start to come out”? Phh, yeah, right. Try EXPLODE. In .0001 seconds, my kitchen became a major disaster area spread 3 feet wide, 2 feet deep, and 5 feet high. My counters, cabinets, blender, wall, floor, picture frame, vase, knives, knife block, refridgerator, and clothing all became victims of this tragic disaster.

Oh, and my appetite, I might add. Because splashes of messy, chunky tomato soup were splattered everywhere, creepily reminiscient of (vomit) <— highlight between the parenthesis if you’re not planning on eating anytime soon.

So, after weeping and throwing things and calling in FEMA, I tended to my scalded hand and proceeded to clean things up.

Round Two.

Oh yesss, friends. There was a Round Two.

Round Two commenced with me pouring out half of the soup, clearing the counters of anything other than the blender, and placing a towel over the blender lid.

Repeat results in smaller scale.

*weeping*

Really???

So here I am… spaghetti-O-less and soggy and delirious.

*sigh*

I just don’t know what to do next… the cereal calls me from the pantry. My magical comfort food that soothes my every sorrow.

Will I ever finish the soup???

(*Deeper, news-reporter voice*) Will the tomatoes come out of my clothes?

Will I crack if Tyler comes home and asks me what I did all day?

Tune in again next time to find the answers to all these questions and more on

CHEYENNE’S HOMEMAKING DISASTERS!