The first day of March ushered in a high in the 80’s and what looks to be a quick end to our nonexistent winter. Beautiful sunny weather with a light breezed pulled us like a Star Trek tractor beam to the park. Loads of friends plus relaxed laughter – and did I mention the beautiful light breeze – got us home at dinner time.

We’ve been a bit errand-challenged this week, in that none have been run. Zero. Nada. Nothing. So who cares if the milk is expired?… It doesn’t smell. And so what if there’s nothing to eat? We can be creative. Which is what I did. (Yes me. It was my night to cook.)

Since the Food Network hosts most of the kids favorite shows, I told the girls that I was opting for a “Chopped” dinner. We didn’t have a basket. But if we did, there wouldn’t be much in it. I looked in the frig and found some Fajita Chicken, pre-cooked from Costco. Yummm… Mexican. Sadly, we’ve got nothing to compliment the fine poultry – no tortillas for quesadillas, or lettuce for salad. But we have noodles. So why not throw together a Mexican pasta dish.


I found tomatoes, beans, salsa and a taco seasoning packet.

Pretending to be a cook, I combined the cans to make a Mexican spaghetti sauces. Knowing my crew would sneer at the chunks of beans, onions, and tomatoes, I decided to smooth it out with a quick trip to the food processor.


I added my fajita chicken to the pureed mix and let it simmer. Mmmm…Some savory smells began to invade our kitchen and potential nay-sayers started to circle the stove with interest. Maybe this might be okay.


I pulled the only noodles we had, capellini. So light and thin, they were perfect.


And…voila … or maybe ole! My judges might have been at bit dubious at the onset, but by the time it passed their lips, they were believers. You can take some lame offerings in your refrigerator and pantry, put them together and arrive at a palatable meal.

Well… at least for most of us. My satisfaction was interrupted by a stubborn little schnook who was apparently frustrated with his spaghetti.

Visions of Princess Bride filled my mind as I looked to the end of the table where two eyes peered over the top. Trying not to believe my ears, I couldn’t ignore the “Boo”s floating my way. Yes, “Boo”s. Not in a fun I’m trying to scare you sort of way. No, these were of the “I’m so appalled I can’t even find words to describe my disgust” variety. From a 4-year-old no doubt.

So I didn’t get chopped… But I did get boo’d. So much for my cooking. Too bad my heckler is a bit young for the stove.

Thanks for walking the road with me.


Jack’s sentiments exactly.

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