16 December 2020

I Blame Emily Gilmore

 This month has been challenging to me.  I know, I know: I am not the only one.  But I will usually tuck and roll with things pretty easily and I'm just...not, right now.

To be fair, I didn't feel good last week.  No, it's not the 'Rona.  I made two trips to the chiropractor because my skeleton was trying to become an exoskeleton.  Neat.

I was determined to be back to "normal" yesterday. Whatever that is.  

After working most of the day...or "working" as Kevin refers to it, I decided that I was going to make lasagna for dinner.  Before you get excited, remember that I cook like a sixth grader in home ec.  While it's no frozen lasagna, it is crockpot lasagna.  Pretty easy stuff.

I gathered everything up and started to put it together.  This is where I realize that I'm short two lasagna noodles.  Okay, no big deal.  I'll just make it smaller and we don't eat it all anyway. Thank you, universe for making me make smaller portions.

Then I was distracted by Emily Gilmore because I was watching the Gilmore Girls reboot.  She triggers me SO HARD.  Omg, she could be my mother. I forget that every time I start watching that show then I'm all GAAAHHHH.  This is where, I think, the wheels fell off this particular task

I made a small error, because distracted: I reversed the order on one of the layers and it was nothing that more cheese can't fix.  Cheese fixes everything.  But now I'm at strike two

Finished that, finished work, then sat down to finish that episode; which happened to have a lot of my mother Emily Gilmore. Kevin phoned and said he was on his way so I turned on the oven for garlic bread.  I thought about a salad and then I didn't.  I don't know why I was anti-salad.  I just was. Now shush, Mrs. Gilmore.

Kevin arrived home and I started setting the table, started cooking a vegetable, and was feeling pretty good about things.  The green beans were ready so I added a little bit of butter and what I thought was a little bit of garlic powder.  Nope, onion flakes.  SUPER.  Not a big deal overall but sheesh.

The table was set and everything was ready.  Then I remembered the garlic bread.  Opened the oven door and...nothing.  The oven had been on for about an hour.  For no reason.  Purely decorative.  

I might have cursed.  Kevin legit looked a little concerned.  "Bread and butter it is!!" I announced to no one while slamming the oven door closed.  I hear a quiet "I like bread and butter..." from Kevin as I then pouted in my chair at the table.

We ate dinner and it was good, despite the jumbled layer, extra cheese, onion flavor green beans, and invisible garlic bread.  I finished, waited for Kevin to finish then started clearing the table. (yes, I am a very 1950's wife.  He works eleventy hours a day)

And this is where I discovered that I had mandarin oranges draining in the sink.  We always have fruit at dinner.  OF COURSE I'd forgotten it. So, yeah.    

I don't believe that I've made the lasagna the same way, like, ever. This makes me a chef, right? Somewhere my middle school home ec teacher is shaking her head disapprovingly; just like in the 80's. Much like Emily Gilmore.

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