Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Getting Even by Spatula

I am not the world's best cook. I'm also not the worst. One thing I am though, is consistent, and that means, I rarely cook anymore--consistently.

This week I was running low on groceries AND moola, so I decided to break out the frozen meat(s) and give it a whirl. I found the stove with no prob. I also remembered how to turn those knob thingies!

You know, sometimes I even amazed ME.

Homemade spaghetti sauce, green beans, baked potatoes, pineapple salad. Nummy. That first night, I was Georgia Deen (sans the high hair) all over the place. Shu nuff, ya'll.

THE SON came home from work. Being outside in the heat all day, all he could manage was "Food. Not burnt. Gimme." The look on his face was one of total amazement...and gratitude.

Next day, round two.

Baked chicken, creamed potatoes, corn-on-the-cob, bread sticks. I was "in the zone" and knew if the phone rang, it would be the Food Network, begging me to go on the road.

I was on fire; only this time it wasn't my hair. It was my "homemade-NESS."

So in walks THE SON from another day out in the heat. He looks around, assesses the situation, walks over to the stove, looks at me...back at the bounty...again--at me.

He bows his head as if the world had just come to an end. A tear?

Whattttttt? For the love of all that floured, the stuff wasn't even burnt! So I said, "Son, what's going on?"

He whirled on me, planted his feet out and said, "Give it to me straight, Mom. You're sick, aren't you? How long you got?"

Staring at him, the light bulb started flashing a neon "got-cha." I had a golden opportunity here and it was handed to me by my very own spatula.

Remembering the state he left the bathroom in that morning, I said,...

"...Well, (with downcast eyes) they saiddddd, I will PROBABLY make full recovery if I could just stick around and take this pill.

But I said noooo, I had to get home and get your supper on, and then.........clean the bathroom.

One hour later, I had a full stomach, a clean kitchen, and a sparkling bathroom.

Yeah, I know...I'm going to burn in H for that one...teehee...whateveee-er.

JJ--Score THE SON = 2, Da Queen = 1...I'm getting there!


Anonymous Anonymous said...

Ah haaaaaaaaaaaaa! So you can be trusted in the kitchen huh? I know the fire department has made you swear NOT to cook outdoors but they will allow you to cook in the kitchen eh? I assume you have fire extinguishers handy "just in case" ?? I bet THE SON thinks an alien has occupied the body (and kitchen) of his Mom.....I also bet he doesn't care as long as he can come home to all that yummy food! GOOD FOR YOU JJ....see? You cooked some great dinners and didn't break out in hives!!!

Great Blog - - - yet again

9:11 AM  
Blogger Chatty Lady said...

Now thats the way to play
oneupmanship on the son. You dererved to win one and my Lord he walked right into it too. Bravo Queen Mother. Humm I ask how all of a sudden though Ms. Inept in the kitchen has become like another Paula Deen??? Me thinks you've been playing possum all along...

6:11 PM  
Anonymous Meredith said...

Who is Paula Deen? Does she write a humor column?

This one kept me laughing all the way through! And you know what I always say -- if we weren't supposed to burn food, then why do homes come with a smoke alarm?

3:08 AM  
Blogger Queen Jaw Jaw said...

Who is Paula Deen? Who is Paula Deen? She only the biggest, most SouthernESS cook on the Food Network Show...She made "ya-all" a two-letter word, for Pete's sake. You know, I do like the way you think.

4:08 PM  

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