not one for the yearbook . . .

since i broke the news to kidlet that meat would now be a once a week option . . . yes, her sad little meat loving jaw hit the floor . . . i've decided to try a new recipe every seven days to broaden our horizons and when you read this one, that's not all that is going to broaden.

so i went on a hunt for new recipes and found what looked to be a great pasta carbonara.  according to its rating system, it ranked an amazing five star average out of 57 votes.  that's pretty darn good as averages go so i bought all of the fixin's and hit the kitchen.

seriously, what is not to love about chicken, bacon . . . bacon is not meat . . . mushrooms, garlic, pasta, parmesan????  so i boiled the fettuccine,  fried the bacon, sauteed the mushrooms, diced the garlic, added salt, pepper and parsley along with the half and half and butter,  . . . i told you things were going to broaden . . . added the cheese. warmed. tossed. plated:

yummo, right!

wrong.  oh dear glorious gods of the culinary persuasion,  why hath thou forsaken me?  how can anything that looks so good and smells so glorious be so . . . so . . . utterly . . . inedible?  kidlet bravely forged through picking out bits of chicken but both plates ended up back in the kitchen much the same as they had left. no good.  not good at all.

OK, so it ain't going to make our list of "do agains".  not now. not ever.  bleck! 

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in other news, i ran errands today.  i'm still trying to track down a bottle of Colavita Extra Virgin Roasted Garlic Olive Oil.  still no luck.  i don't think our little burg is ever going to see the likes of that.  but as i wandered around Ace Hardware with a project list in mind, a VERY nice assistant named Dot asked if i needed any help.  i hate the box stores.  before i can even stutter out the principles of my dilemma, their people are giving me the hairy eyeball and looking for someone a little less challenged to help, but not Dot.  that's what i love about my neighborhood ACE.  anyway, she understood my sign language for a new coupling for the hose and handed me the right goodie telling me to be sure and wait til it warms up outside or use a hair dryer to warm the hose and no i don't need a saw, a sharp knife will do, and WD-40 or petroleum jelly would be good.  she also gave me her staunch opinion on hose heads.  finally she sent me skittering down aisle seven for a spray bottle.  done.  as i stood paying for my deal-ios, i thought her boss should know just how helpful she was.  i tracked down Troy and started off explaining my shtick about ineptitude,  widowhood and her helpfulness when what to my total dismay, big fat wet tears leaked out of my eyeballs and dripped waywardly down my face.  oh dear Lord, i really have turned into that crazy woman. then Troy's eyes filled.  WTF?

i'm not much of a crier but every once in a while, at the least slothful filled times, out they come.  usually and thankfully, mostly at home.  not at the corner hardware store in front of God, Troy and that very plump fix-it guy who desperately needed to hike up his jeans.  it's like a rain shower on a cloudless day.  no one expects it.  i ran to the car, smashed my foot on the gas pedal and hightailed it out of the parking lot.  thankfully, i fared better in the pet food store.

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The sun'll come out tomorrow 
So you got to hang on till tomorrow, came what may! 
Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love you, tomorrow 
You're always a day away