When the honeymoon is over:

Dated the same girl thru four years of high school with plans to marry after graduation. Small wedding at the in-laws and set up house keeping. Rented a duplex, charged a washer and dryer and family provided the other necessities.

Life was under way. First morning, “what’s for breakfast?” “How about fried egg?” She says I can’t cook fried eggs. “How about scrambled?” No, but I can boil eggs… lets try that. Later I heard a rattling noise in the kitchen and find a pot with the water boiled out and four eggs jumping up and down like Mexican jumping beans. Throw the pot and eggs in the trashcan and order pizza. Got the big one...takes care of breakfast and lunch.

Start washing my 56 Chevy and suppertime nears. Concerned, I asked what’s for supper and she said I can cook spaghetti and meatballs and we can have dinner rolls. Sounds good to me!

Around six PM the smoke alarm goes off and smoke is boiling out the screen door…looks like a tribe of Indians making a long distance call from Utah to Colorado.

Supper is ready…she used two pounds of hamburger and made four meatballs and served them on a platter that looked like something between a center piece at a Holiday Inn supper buffet and Mount Rushmore. The rolls were ready for a carbon dating test. Not enough butter to save them.

Trick is to get the meatball on your plate without it getting away and taking out a wall in the dining room. Got one on my plate and discovered it was not hot. A skilled paramedic with the proper equipment could have revived the creature. Meatballs back in the oven…supper on hold.

Finally supper is ready. I’m as hungry as a yard dog with nine suckling puppies. Supper over we settle down for a little TV and Acid Reflux sets in, fueled by booster rockets on the space shuttle. Large bowl of black walnut ice cream saves the day.

Next day get off work and stop by the book store…buy three cook books and go to the hardware store and buy the super size fire extinguisher.

Life starts again


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Life's experiences have to start somewhere, huh?
Our first apartment was large but the kitchen was tiny - there were no storage cabinets, the refrigerator, stove, and an ancient hot water heater lined one wall, an enormous sink and maybe 3 ft. of counter space were on the opposite wall. The refrigerator would ice-up and freeze everything in it app. every two days and only two burners on the gas stove worked. For the biggest part of a year, I grocery shopped daily and learned to cook at The School of Hard Knocks!

One time I made a pound cake by my grandmother's famous recipe that Paul thought was cornbread - he got a slice to eat with some purplehull peas I'd scorched and a piece of fried chicken I'd parched on the outside but the inside was totally raw!

Another time, to celebrate some special occasion, I bought two steaks (a real luxury back then) and tried to broil them in the stove's oven. Let's just say it's a miracle nobody got hurt! Who knew Pyrex was not intended for the broiler!! Miraculously, there was a fire extinguisher at hand - we didn't have to make a trip to the hardware store.

Right now, looking back, those absolutely crazy times seem like some of the happiest days of my life - all we had on earth were our wedding presents (mostly china, crystal and sterling silver flatware) and each other but life seemed grand.

Reminds me of a friend of mine. He said, "I have an agreement with the fire department. I don't cook, and they don't come."
Mr. Cathaus is very proud of his ability to cook a frozen pizza. He knows it's done when the smoke detector goes off!
I have a great and reciepe and instructional video on my page check it out when you get a chance.
Poor Earl didn't even get me thinking I could boil eggs :-S


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