I did finally get to the grocery store yesterday, and as I walked in to The Price Chopper, to what did my wondering eye should appear but a giant Halloween display featuring PEANUT BUTTER SNICKERS. Of course, I felt that it was a sign from God, so I snatched up a huge bag of the little suckers and tossed them into my Cart of Doom.
$106 later I had all the fixin's for the Lasagna Feast Of Fury.
This did not improve my mood.
Which, naturally, meant I came home and procrastinated some more.
I kept waiting for the lasagna to just cook itself already, for the apples to peal themselves and hop into the dish, singing, for a pie crust to magically appear before me, carried by bluebirds and laid lovingly on top of the apples...
Nope.
That only happens in Disney films, apparently.
Dear Walt Disney,
Due to the fact that I was brainwashed by your fluffy films of hard-luck princesses who all manage to live happily ever after and receive constant help, advice and attention from woodland creatures, I have been left with an unrealistic expectation of entitlement. Where the hell are the goddamn helpful mice and squirrels when I need a lasagna and a freaking pie put together?
You owe me, Walt.
Love,
Dani
I finally got moving at around 7:30 last night. I made the pie, I made the lasagna sauce, and then determined I could finish everything else in the morning.
It's now 11:30 and so far this morning I've:
Had coffee.
Dan called (he has been at his parent's house since last night) and treated me to the following conversation:
Dan: "So when will you be coming down?"
Me: "I dunno. I still have to put the lasagna together and shower."
Dan: "Now what else are you bringing, again?"
(GAHHHHH! We've only been over this 5473957639 times. The man is 38. WTF is he going to be like when he's 50??!!!!! "Hey, Dani... you're my what, again?")
Me: *ohhhhhhh so patiently* "Lasagna. Pie. For which I pealed 50 bazillion apples, no lie. Garlic bread. Salad."
Dan: "Do you think that'll be enough?"
Me: "Ya know? It's just going to have to be. Because that? Is all there is going to be. So help me if I show up and your mother is cooking I am going to stab someone."
Dan: *wait for it.... wait for it... you know it's coming...* "I hope they like it."
Update: I am finished. Lasagna + Dutch Apple Pie
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| "But will they like it?" |
Yep, Walt owes you BIG. But...you know what? Dan owes you BIGGER. GINORMOUS, even. I'd be all, "Dan, honey, I feel soooo sick. Come get this food and tell your parents I said 'hey'." Dear gawd, honey, how you gonna get through this marriage without those helpful bluebirds and mices?
ReplyDeleteWhy don't you try taking a deep breathe and counting to ten? That might work.
ReplyDeleteBut just in case it doesn't? One word - flask.
My mother in law saved the day by handing me a bottle of wine the second I walked through her door. When all was said and done, I may or may not have left teeth marks on the cork due to lack of patience (and tons of class, obviously) because after I chugged the first glass, I couldn't get the cork back out with my hands and didn't feel like hunting down the cork remover again.
ReplyDeleteMuch "over-sharing" (on my part) ensued.
I survived. The lasagna was devoured. The apple pie was devoured.
I really love the soothing properties of wine.
So. Much.
Your procrastination beats my procrastination.
ReplyDeleteI hate cooking, and whenever my boyfriend decides to say something about it, I tell him where he can shove his snarky remarks.
So I think I speak for everyone when I ask "So did they freakin like it??"
ReplyDeleteSounds like they at least liked it!!! Also sounds like that MIL of yours is good people. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with ripping a cork out of a bottle of wine with your teeth. You are the classiest! :)
ReplyDeleteThat looks great, how did dinner go?
ReplyDelete