If you remember, and of course you do because my life is endlessly fascinating, on day 12 one of our activities was a trip to the grocery store. As much as I looove grocery shopping (feel the irony) this was not a joy ride trip. We were on a serious mission to get some last minute ingredients because I was going to make a good dinner for once, gosh darn it. We got what we needed, minus a few items I of course forgot (like butter) but could improvise around, and headed home.
It was beautiful out so I decided a little swim would be nice before fixing dinner and it was wonderful, until everything started to go downhill. Swimming and diaper changes and all that fun stuff took longer than expected, as it always does. (Which really should make it expected, but somehow I’m always surprised.)
As a result, dinner preparation was rushed and peppered with the hungry protests of the current King of the World who is accustomed to 100% attention at meal times. Fortunately, because it was a Rachel Ray recipe, things actually came together well and in a timely manner. I started thinking, “Hey, I can do this. I could be the next Martha Stewart.” At which point the casserole overflowed onto the cookie sheet I’d placed beneath it (I did see this one coming) and the smell of blue cheese filled the house.
I should mention here that neither my husband nor I are especially fond of blue cheese, but the recipe called for it and I thought it would add a minor note to the flavor palate. Umm, the entire casserole tasted and smelled of blue cheese. It was a blue cheese lover’s paradise. We had to throw it out. Rather, because the pan was still hot, we intended to throw it out in the morning. This is how my house came to be filled with dirty dishes and a half-eaten casserole when the doorbell rang.
So here I was in beaten up jeans and an old tank top, with a kitchen full of dirty dishes and half eaten food and the little guy’s toys scattered as far as the eye could see, welcoming the dishwasher delivery guys into my home. Thank goodness I’d run the dishwasher that morning and didn’t have to pull out a bunch of dirty dishes.
The moral of the story is, this is why I don’t cook dinner very often.
Cost: $6 for that stinking (literally) blue cheese.
Age: Almost 8 months