Sunday, November 22, 2009

cryin' macaroni

I hate failing at things. Especially things I know I should be perfectly capable. For example, in the third grade I represented my class in the annual spelling bee. I was so nervous that morning I tossed my cookies before I even made it out of the house, but after the nerves worked their way out, I went on to school in my snap button jean skirt ready to take home the prize. I had made it to the top three, and I just knew I had it in the bag. I stepped up for my next word..."diamond." I confidently spelled the word "D...I...M...O...N...D" only to hear "I'm sorry, that is incorrect." I was heartbroken. But you know what, I have never in my life misspelled diamond again.

Well today I had another spelling bee type failure of the domestic kind. We were to have a big Thanksgiving lunch with parts of Kyle's family we won't get to see on Thanksgiving. I had volunteered to make mac and cheese, my specialty. Being my first official Thanksgiving making food with Kyle's family, I certainly wanted my dish to be perfect. We picked up the goods on the way to my in-laws house, and I started to work my magic as soon as we got to their house. I did everything just as usual, and the bottom of the cheese pan burnt a little bit. "No big deal," I thought. It had, after all, happened before. After I had everything prepared, I took a taste. Oh....emmm...geee. It tasted awful. Remember the burning in the cheese pan? Well the mac and cheese tasted exactly like that burning smells. I was horrified.

With the help of my wonderful mother-in-law, who kept telling me it was fine, we added in more butter (more butter is better, right?), milk and Velveeta. No result. I thought if anyone would know how to fix it, it would be my mom. So I went upstairs to call her, only for her to heartbreakingly tell me the only way to fix burnt cheese is to throw it out. Then, just like the rushing of a river you can't stop, the tears came. I had ruined my Thanksgiving dish for 11 people! And not only was I embarrassed at my inability to cook even mac and cheese, I now had to somehow make it looked like I hadn't been crying. FAIL. That was basically impossible. Kyle came upstairs and tried to make me feel better, but my mac and cheese failure had crushed my little heart.

Downstairs everyone assured me it was fine, and wouldn't even think of allowing me to go buy a replacement. Even though it tasted awful, it was put on the table, and everyone took a little bit of it.

In all of this, I was reminded of a few things. 1: I am so not Martha, and my mom, who is as good as Martha, has a lot she can teach me. 2: I am incredibly thankful, even more so at this time of year, for marring into such a great family who loves me despite my burnt mac and cheese (who knew that was even possible?!)

And I can assure you of one thing...I'll never burn my mac and cheese again.



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