20120820
I did it!
I had a huge
pot of overcooked angel hair spaghetti; it sat for years, neglected. I finally
dumped it all out today, and with surgical tools took out pieces of shoelaces,
long strands of dental floss, three foot stools and an old tire.
Then, I
rolled up my sleeves and grabbed that wet angel hair. I worked and worked to
make a big ball, I squeezed and squished the mass, it squirmed and slid, we
fought, I squashed it harder, harder, harder.
Now for the
rolling pin. I pushed, I shoved, I balanced on my tiptoes to put all my weight
on that rolling pin. Slowly, ever so slowly, it flattened, and flattened, and
after hours of work, it was a thin sheet of pasta.
Now I could
cut it up, and in each little segment I could put ingredients I know will be
tasty, yes, yes, yes. She said yes. Thirteen hours later, yes, yes.
Tortellini!
And I’m not even Italian!
It looks
good, it smells good, I think it’s edible. Caution, I don’t have a certified
commercial computer. The health dept. might extricate me.
But delete
worked fine, google jumped in with both feet and added some pizzazz, and damn
if
Chapter Eight, Slaves on the
Plantation: How Good People Endured-Or Not
turned from
a sad old disaster to a fresh plate of hot pasted words ready to be devoured.
Even got the
nut job who was sure he was a Prophet of God worked into the dessert. The
whipped cream topping was his firm belief that Napoleon Bonaparte was the
second son of God, sent to crush other churches and only the nut case, aka Fr.
George Rapp (who’s nut job followers built the house I lived in for over 6
years) and his celibate followers, the true Chosen, would get to hang out with
JC any day now. You can’t make that shit up!
No comments:
Post a Comment