Thursday, March 29, 2007

Stephanie Qualitini?

Oh how I wish I had been born Italian! Or even married Italian for that matter. At least I could then have a justification for my fascination of all things Italian. I have wanted to make my own pasta since tasting the real thing in Italy. It makes the dried stuff I buy at Walmart taste like cardboard....and a food snob I am not. I always loved the stuff from Walmart...before.
So tonight, my sweet hubby and I set off to make homemade pasta. Before you go voting me the new Martha Stewart, or better yet, Mario Batali, I used a pasta machine my parents gave me that they had never used. Now after 3 attempts to work the machine (and cleaning each tiny piece each time), I can see why they never used it. It is a LOT of work for a small amount of pasta. But Bobby and I sat watching the pasta extrude from the machine like 2 little kids watching chocolate being made. We were mesmerized and a bit giddy. So with our little bit of pasta hanging to dry, the tiny parts all washed for the forth and final time and my kitchen counters possibly permanently cemented with flour, we determined smiling, this HAS to be a new monthly date night!

Sunday, March 18, 2007

Funny Stories...Installment One

So, with a past history of such deep posts, I fear I am not expressing all sides of my personality on this blog. I guess when I write, it generally brings out feelings worth exploring but I have quite a history of funny things happening in my life. I tried to dig out stories that many of you haven't heard and will begin with this one...
So I was on staff with K-Life and every Sunday night, we would have a leaders meeting at the guys gross, old house. The wood floors no longer had a finish, the vents were often askew (these details will make sense in a minute), and ultimately, no matter how hard KJ and I tried to clean this house for them, it always was filthy. We have finished the meeting a few leaders were hanging around. We were all sitting around and one of the staff guys that I could create an entire blog of ridiculous stories around begin taunting me and up I hopped, chasing him (hoping to look a bit athletic) and as I rounded the corner with everyone watching, my toe caught one of the aforementioned raised vents. Before I knew what was happening, I was flying through the air in what seemed like slow motion. Before I could catch myself, my cheek slammed into the wall with my legs trailing some 4 miles behind. So slowly my hips slid to the ground until I was laying flat on my stomach. The room was silent for an entire minute and I hopped up laughing, hoping to diffuse my awkwardness. Everyone erupted but inside, I was screaming in pain, wondering, "was my cheekbone cracked?" but most importantly, "was the elusive, handsome college athlete leader watching?" That he was...and he was laughing a bit too hysterically. Thankfully he thought my klutzy actions were endearing because he married me.