Off to the Races

Posted from 8/10

Hello friends, let's take some time and talk about TIMING because dear God is that a pain.
Tony unsuspectingly had to pick up a little over time which means SURPRISE MEAL PREPARATION! Hooray?
So it seems I'm channeling Tony's cravings because I said “tuna casserole” and he lit up and exclaimed his recent craving for fish. (Well tell me, fool and then I'll know! Lol) So let's get a recipe!

“Mom, can I have your recipe for tuna noodle casserole?”

“Well, um, you use..”

“No no, just the recipe.”
“I don't have one.”

0.o …. “erm, what?”

“I do it from memory the way my mother taught me.”

Sweet! That's alright with me, but I'm writing that business down. I'm sorry, I just can't remember that sort of thing yet.

I'm missing just a couple of ingredients so I plan to wake up at a set alarm time the next day and go briefly shopping. My round trip took maybe 20 minutes... but when you wake up and hour late? Let's just say I have no need for a gym membership today. Booking it in the kitchen is something I hate, but the alternative is Tony trying to explain to his boss the reason he's late is that his ladyfriend couldn't get the *expletive* tuna noodle casserole in the oven on time. 

Time. Running out of time. 

Everything's home now, put the water on to boil. 

No clean pots, not one. Maybe I should have allowed a little time for dishes? Clean the pot, start the water. Sweet, okay. Maybe I should wash a casserole dish and the pasta strainer while I'm at it! No problem. 

Tick tock.
Drain the tuna, drain the peas. So I have this new fangled can opener. It's the kind that breaks the glue seal and produces no sharp edges which is really nice... except when you need to drain what was in the can. I can't press it in! What do I do? I dorked around with the lid for a while but ultimately I ended up pressing it out with my fingers. Peas were easier.
Cat. One of the cats has caught wind of what I'm draining. Cue the caterwauling and the tripping me up. No really, thank you tiny friend, I needed to trip repeatedly in the hot kitchen today. And thank you for the crying, you've attracted the other cat who, as I found out today, isn't actually interested in tuna, she just wanted to know what was happening.
Noodles are done! Drain those things and GO! Crap, I forgot the cans of tuna and peas directly in the sink. Time to balance the hot cook pot with one hand and fish those puppies out with the other.
Throw it back in the pot, mix in the cream of chicken.

Dear river of cats around my feet (there are only two but gee golly it feels like more when they're around your feet), to satiate your nom propelled curiosity, I make this offering of a cream of chicken lid.
Mix all that crap up, go dump it in the casserole.

Turns out, neither are interested in cream of chicken (divas!) and I've stepped just over the lid and it has now plastered to the inside of my pant leg and is glazing itself to my ankle. Can't stop! I have an alarm in my pocket that has been going off for 2 minutes and that casserole WILL GO IN!!
So it's in, I run to the base of the stairs and wake Tony. Wake Tony, yell frantically up the stairs to Tony, whatever.
Relax, calm down. You just made it in with enough time for it to cook and be out with 20 minutes eating time...
You forgot the foil on top. Yank it out, throw on the foil, shove it back in. Beautiful. Still good. Now just panic for a while for no good reason. Also, go clean your leg, you animal.
Food! It's food. Finally. Phew.

I scoop up a wad because, let's face it, that's how tuna noodle casserole comes out, and give it to Tony and this fool is smiling like he's never seen food before.
“Why are you smiling like that?”
“I just really love you”
Ah, tuna noodle casserole, the food of love.

So let's talk about that timing thing. I'm so horrendously terrible at it. Meal planning is so completely not my thing (yet). So usually here I am with an “Oh I know!” plan dejour and am missing the ingredients to fulfill it. I am usually missing the proper cookware not because I don't have it, but because I haven't washed it. I cannot explain the level of loathing I have for washing dishes. I really have to pump myself up for it, or be driven to it out of necessity through either needing them, or needing them not to start molding. Gross.

Planning meals means planning more than the food, it means planning your other chores, augmenting your day, and making sure you stay on schedule. Sure, you're home, but timing matters here just as much as a job outside the home. So maybe, if you're absolute garbage staying on schedule at home, you can see that at least once in a while, if you bust ass, you can still nail it - even with a furry river around your feet.