Be afraid, be very afraid.

The following is my letter to my nephew Greg, in it's entirety:
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Dear Greg,

Of all the Halloween stories you have ever heard, I'm quite certain that this will be the most frightening for it is true.

It all started last Thursday night, when I went grocery shopping. I bought spaghetti and decided that I could make the sauce. Now, usually I cook the noodles and dump Prego or Ragu on top (whichever is on sale). I knew my abilities were rather limited, so I bought one of those little packets. You know, like French's or something.

Instructions

I even bought a little hamburger. Please mark you calendar, I have never purchased hamburger, raw, like from the store.

Last night, I googled how to cook that hamburger. I needed to put a little salt in the bottom of a frying pan. Put the pan on the stove. Heat up the pan.

Simple enough?

Oh no, you see, I have a gas range. I turned on the stove and smelled all this plastic burning. I forgot that I took out the little round thing in my microwave when I cleaned the micorwave earlier in the day. Needless to say, my little round thing was on fire and shooting up flames.

Fear not, for I simply turned off the stove. Moved the frying pan, grabbed the little round thing and blew out the fire. Much like blowing out birthday candles. Only this was Halloween, so I'm sure it was Halloween candles.

Picture of burnt microwave thing (after I blew it out)

I resumed my endeavors, put the pan back on the stove and ignited the gas stove again.

I slapped the meat on there. And, started gooshing it around. So far so good.

Time to put in the tomato paste. I opened my cupboard, grabbed the can, opened it and dumped it in the pan.

Imagine my surprise when I saw green beans, carrots, peas, and noodles in my tomato paste. I looked at the can and then I saw that it was Minestrone soup.

A rather exciting debate incurred inside my head, throw out and start again? Or give it a whirl? The meiser in me gave it a whirl. I couldn't waste all that food. This was a once in a lifetime experience, and if I stopped now, I'd never know how it turned out.

I decided to cook the soup until it evaporated.

I threw some water in another pan and started heating up the water. It boiled and I dumped in the spaghetti noodles.

Ahh,

once the soup evaporated, I couldn't even see the green beans or the peas.

Then, I put the real can of tomato paste in the pan.

Dumped the packet of stuff in—as instructed.

It looked like paste. Instead of making spaghetti sauce I was making spaghetti paste.

Whoa: read those instructions. I needed a cup and a half of water.

I don't have measuring cups, so I filled up a glass of water and threw it in there. I stirred and it loosened up a bit.

Final Product: Spaghetti Paste (you can't even see the veggies)

The water with the noodles in it was boiling all over. The noodles were kind of congealed. I couldn't seem to get away from that paste theme I had going.

I drained the water out of the noodle pan. Scooped some “sauce” on the noodles and sniffed.

I had images of Oscar throwing up all over his crib.

I put the plate down to see how Gabby did with it.

She sniffed and walked away. Not such a good sign when she's been known to eat pooh.

I had a salad last night.

The moral of the story: be afraid, be very afraid if your Aunt Loretta says she's going to cook for you.


Love,

Loretta