I spent a great portion of Monday afternoon moping. The kind of moping that results in eating doughnuts and not even caring if your bum gets bigger (I do care today.)
On Sunday/Monday depending on how the time thing works, my friend Garry was off getting married to the lovely Kim, in New Jersey of all places, and we weren’t there. We would have liked to be there, obviously, but it turns out that New Jersey is just a little bit further away from Port Lincoln than we could drive. Also, there’s the whole ‘Boatman just started a new job and hasn’t got any leave up his sleeve yet,’ problem, coupled with the ‘we haven’t won Lotto’ dilemma, which made it all rather difficult. I’ll admit that a good portion of my devastation comes from the fact that I’m pretty sure they recreated the whole Robin/Barney wedding thing, (chapel by the sea upstate from New York, as if you wouldn’t?), but also the fact that all my old school friends were there.
Well almost all. One was excused on account of his wife just having had a baby, and we were excused on account of all the above reasons I just gave.
So, back to moping.
It turns out, that apart from doughnut eating enablement, it’s really not good for much. Including blogging. All of my writing mojo went right out the window and left me with nothing for IBOT. A dilemma if ever I heard one.
I attempted to push through; I’m not a quitter. But I’m also a little bit of an idealist when it comes to writing, and it turns out that trying to write any one of the seven blog posts half-formed in brain, was never going to work like I wanted it to. So I did what any self-respecting blogger does in this regard and asked social media. Facebook being what it is, there weren’t a whole lot of suggestions, (either that or people were hoping that I would just write nothing), but the ones that did pop up were pretty good.
Particularly the one from Emily asking me to write about who in my life (or blog land) is like the characters from Friends.
Except of course that made me all the more mopey because the last time I did that, was with the group of friends who were currently all partying away in the States without me. *Cue more doughnut eating* (I was Monica by the way- not in the clean factor. Just the wildly neurotic way.)
The second suggestion that appealed was from reader Janelle, who asked me to share my worst cooking failure.
Now to be honest, I’ve never really had a cooking failure. Apart from the fact that I cannot make rissoles to save my life (they always fall apart), I’m pretty decent in the kitchen. But there was one story that sprang to mind, again including those guys that were off celebrating wedding shenanigans.
It was not long after Chris and his wife Mel had moved back to Darwin, and Phil and his wife Anna were either newly married or engaged, when Boatman and I decided to invite them over for a pie night. The basic premise was ‘everything pie.’ Pie for dinner and pie for dessert.
At the time we were living in a tiny little unit that wasn’t built for entertaining, and so we had to set up our camping table to make room for everyone. I had spent the day cleaning and baking and getting it all perfect; there were sausage rolls for entrée, Beef and Guinness Pie for dinner, and (I think) an Blue-Berry pie for dessert. It was all set up and ready to go, and there should have been no problem.
Of course that’s never the way.
We had gotten through the sausage rolls ok, and it was time for the Pièce de résistance; the Beef and Guinness pie, with a mashed potato crust.
Boatman had one job. Get the pie out of the oven, and put it on the bench. That’s all.
Off he tottered into the kitchen, everyone behind him, ready to see this pie that I had talked up to high heaven. He opened the oven, reached in, pulled out the pie, and then promptly dropped it upside down on the floor.
There was a brief moment of silence whilst we all stared at what was supposed to be dinner, before, almost simultaneously Boatman, Chris, Anna and Phil spoke at once.
Boatman: The floors clean!
Chris: Does this mean we get pizza?
Phil and Anna: We will still eat it!
Whilst I stood there in shock, trying not to either cry or deal out a severe reprimand, Boatman hurriedly scooped the pie filling into the now empty dish and set it on the table. The floor was cleaned, and then, using a spoon as opposed to a knife, that Floor Pie, as it was then known, was served out and eaten in its entirety.
In truth, I never ate it, but I wouldn’t have eaten it anyway, (on account of not actually liking pie), and Chris did look slightly skeptical as he ate his, but I believe it was fine. No one got sick at least, and it was a good night. Dessert, more importantly, managed to remain intact.
So whist I have never had any real ‘cooking’ disasters, that’s probably the biggest kitchen disaster we’ve had, and even then, it turned out all right. Floored or not, pie is pretty much pie.
I highly doubt Floor Pie made it to the wedding menu on the weekend, and I can’t really blame them for that. No one chooses floor pie when you can have regular pie. But sometimes that’s what you get, and you might as well make the most of it.
So here’s to Garry and Kim. May you have a blessed and wonderful life together filled with love and happiness and doughnuts and pie. And may you always have clean floors, just in case something gets dropped on them. Wish we could have been there. xxx
Be honest: would you have eaten the floor pie?
How many doughnuts is too many?
And why don’t they fix writers block???