Would You Like a Spoon With That?

My house is full of smoke.

"oh, is it dinnertime already?"

Yes, thank you for asking. I don't think I'm alone in this, but I may have just ruined our dinner. However, I may be alone in the fact that I ruined 2 dinners at once. That sounds bad. Letme rephrase: I killed two pre-dead animals with one stone. That's a little more cheerful, yes?

I've been doing this program called e-mealz. I signed up for it a few months ago because it took all the meal planning out of my day (or just gave me a meal plan since I can't remember the last time I scratched out a map for my weekly meals). I sign up for the service, they send me a weeks worth of meals, slap it onto a shopping list for me and "Viola!" done. In my case over-done. Hold that thought.

Today I felt like trying my domestic hat on. I do this every once in a while before remembering , "oh yeah. . . nope." I thought before cooking dinner I would quickly cook up some calzones for a weeks worth of lunches. I've made them for dinner several times. Easy shmeasy.

I heated up the oven, which already smelled of smoke since I guess there was some spilled food burning on the bottom of the oven. It was already heated, nothing I can do about it now, so I popped the calzones in, then started dinner. Because I was already smelling smoke, I didn't notice when my calzones switched from golden-delicious to coal-foot until the beeper went off.

Frustrated, I'm opening windows to let all the new smoke out.
I come back to making my meatloaf. I have never in my life made meatloaf because, generally, I'm of the opinion that meat should never be formed into a loaf, but I had my domestic hat on, it was on the list, and was feeling rebellious. It's "Mexican Meatloaf" so I added the salsa. All the salsa. One half too much salsa. The last half was supposed to be added at the end. My meat is not in a loaf. It's in a swamp.

Pete told me before we got married that he was an awesome cook. I thought we were set. Turns out he thought he was a chef because he could make a mean omelet. I don't like omelets.

I'm pretty sure my childrens dinner woes are his fault. Because, clearly, that's false advertising. At least when he married me he knew my main course was toasted o's with a serving of milk, spoon on the side.

Which is what dinner is tonight. I hope he's happy with himself.