From Nails to Cheese....

Code Lesson: Do NOT NOT NOT add a full condensed can of Cheese Soup to your Spaghetti.  

TOTAL Bust.   MAJOR Stomach Cramping.

Today I get home at 8:30pm, which is actually early considering I had time to drudgingly squeeze in a nail appointment (which the nice ladies, bless their souls, stayed late for me).  My nails and roots are overdone, but that's a whole other story.  I faintly recall the days when getting my nails done was a lavish treat to savor, spent catching up on the latest US Weekly or ELLE.  But now, it's really no different than reading at work, while someone is pumicing and polishing my flanges.  I digress.  

Side note: Why is it that the person in the chair next to me inevitably thinks it's socially acceptable, nay, inviting and cordial to start asking personal questions about my life?  I'm balancing my blackberry between prickly legs which I would have shaved had I known I was going to have time to squeeze in a pedicure at the last minute for fear of embarrassment, holding a pen between my lips, and flipping pages with my elbow while both arms are stretched to one side so the nail tech can reach them.

I am clearly totally open to starting a conversation, (insert sarcasm here), but yes, ma'am, what did you say? In some social circles this ill-advised acknowledgment apparently signals a 20 minute conversation which inevitably leads to this older woman telling me her unchartered opinions about life in general and as applied to me (because she knows me so well).  But then again, I can't blame her, it is 7:30 pm on a Tuesday and I was the only other poor sap in there to answer her burning questions.

She proceeds to tell me "You know, they say you should never go through more than one major life change in a year. "

 Oh yeah lady? Bring it.  

I begin to tell her how my life has taken form this year, and she stops dead in her tracks.  Literally, she says "I'm sorry, that's a LOT of stuff going on." 

Ya, thank you, I could have told myself that.  She concludes, "Well, good luck with everything!" Um Thank you! Okay, moving on.  You thought that was painful to read?  Imagine being in my plastic lined pedi-tub!

Anywayyyysssss.... I got my nails did, then came home and Bryan had (sweet thing he is) gone to the grocery store to get us food for the week, yes, I am aware it's Tuesday night; anyway I start to boil water...put noodles in, brown some meat, then add pasta sauce, everything is going just average so far.  No smoke alarm, no gas fumes emitting sans flame (see macaroni and cheese reference in About Me) and just when I am about to season the sauce, grate some Romano and call it a dinner, I decide to put a can of Cheese Soup in there.  What the H*** was I thinking?

I don't know, that it would be creamier and cheesier? That's always good right?

So I scoop up a bowl of piping hot gooey pasta for my husband, who takes a bite (he LOVES pasta) looks up and asks, "What did you put IN this?" I am half expecting his face to be full of wonderment and awe at my superb and creative culinary skills.  Nope. That face had "I'm gonna barf written all over it."

I sink in my chair and give him the "lip." (sad puppy face that instantly melts him and makes him say whatever he thinks I need or want to hear).

I ask him, "You HATE it don't you? I'm so sorry.  I can't believe I messed pasta up!" UGH.  That's what I get for trying to be creative.

And he replies, "What? I love it!" I respond, "No, really, its ok I don't really like it either."  Which was the truth, it was WAAAY to thick.  I convincingly smile and tell him I thought it would be good because his mom used to put cream cheese and Velveeta in everything, and he grew up loving cheesy pasta. 

But honestly the only reason I ate my bowl was because I hadn't eaten anything except my Eggo waffles for breakfast, and my usual packed lunch delicacy...PB&J.... and 2 fun size Hershey's chocolates, which I stole from my own desk, because I put them there for guests only ....that's working out well by the way.  

So back to the cheese goop bow-tie bowl, Bryan looks up from faithfully chewing, forkful by forkful, and enthusiastically says "No babe! It's good!"  

He cautiously asks "Issss there any left?" I say, "Ya, I'm sorry."

Him: "No that's good we can have leftovers!" 

Me:  Mpffff.  "Not even the soup kitchen would take that crap.  But, I think its stomach-able if you tell yourself you're eating Spaghetti-o's and not expecting actual pasta."

Spaghetti-o's.  What was I thinking? My husband is ITALIAN! 

He sheepishly laughs and returns, committed, eyes and face down to the bowl.  He finishes.  The man has a steel stomach.  Then, he asks me a question I was not expecting.... "Are you going to finish yours?"  

Kabobs made by Husband Last Week

He must love me that much.  I am in the market for local cooking classes that are cheap and can be taught to me while in R-E-M sleep.
Anyone know any recommendations?


Clearly, my husband has skills that I am still lacking.