A Sight For Sore Eyes

The Lighter Side to Facing Vision Loss

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A BAD ‘COOKING’ DAY

I stomped upstairs--which is difficult to do in a pair of brand new slippers with plastic bumps that cling to the floor. "I can change the menu for dinner. I'm not restricted to chicken, especially since last night my chicken went over like...a meal for ONE. ME!

"I'll show them how versatile I am even though they don't give me any ideas," I growled as I grabbed the diabetic cookbook off my shelf. "I'll make them a healthy yet delicious meal." The  Farmstand Fritatta, a glorified omelet, looked easy enough.  Cut up some veggies, let cook, broil and you're  done.  Fifty minutes. More than enough time.

I did a quick read-through. We had all the ingredients. That is if you didn't count the Egg Beaters and if that allowed for frozen veggies.

Buddy lay exactly where I had to mix my ingredients.

Egg Beaters  and six egg whites. No problem. I'll use real eggs and just separate them. Wouldn't have had a problem if my dog hadn't been right there. But with him "guarding" my spot, I had to limit myself to use the corner  of the cabinet space and circle around him. I tried to move him but at a sedate  fifteen, he'd become pretty adept at making himself a dead weight.

So,  Buddy stayed.

When I cracked my first egg, I mixed some yolk in by mistake but with a quick dip of my teaspoon, I repaired the damage. No way to save my fourth egg though. I had to set it aside. After that, I carefully cracked the rest, flipping the yolk between the two shells to catch all of the egg white dribble. Satisfied, I slid the two separate bowls to one side.

My hand touched the counter and came back slimy. Oh. I squinted. The bowl of egg whites looked pretty full. I might have sloshed it over the edge. I swooshed a dishrag over the counter but instead of the egg white soaking into the cloth, I must have pushed it over the edge - because when I moved, my slipper went whoosh! And me along with it! But the dog, noting my falling form, moved just in time and I caught myself, too.

Both slippers would need to be laundered.

Good save!

Just then my cell phone rang.  It was my mom. "When will supper be ready?"  On time if I don't get any more interruptions!

I started to set my phone down opposite the area where I was cooking, and had to circle around the dog. He still refused to budge.  I narrowly missed Buddy's snout when I moved, making me do a balancing act on the other foot. The result: my second slipper , too, collided with the egg whites.  Ugh.

My cell rang again.  "Whatcha doin'?"

Right on time. It would be James. "Cooking supper," I said.

"What grand disaster awaits today?" I knew he was rolling his eyes,  especially when, a few minutes later, I asked him what "blanching" meant.

"You don't know what blanching means?"

"Something to do with cooking,"  I said innocently. I didn't really care. I had the

Cooking the Farmstand Fritatta

vegetable and that was good enough.

He let that pass. "Ooookaaay," he said. "You got the ingredients. But I've got a feeling..."

"No, no, no..." I said firmly, "Everything will be fine this time..." I skimmed the recipe as we talked. "OH NO!"

"What? Did Buddy get in your way again?"

"Now I have to mix the two sets of eggs TOGETHER," I wailed. After all that effort of separating them.

Now Buddy lay in front of the fridge.

"Didn't you read the recipe in advance?"

"Of course I did. I just didn't see that part."

We chatted as I cooked.

"Ya gotta move, Buddy!" He opened a sleepy eye and closed it again.

Needing to concentrate  on my task at hand, I hung up.

Now Buddy lay down directly in front of the fridge.I brushed up against him as I slowly eased the refrigerator door open. He never budged.

After cutting up some fresh parsley and whipping the egg whites and yolks together, throwing a dash of rosemary salt and black pepper into the mix, I poured it over the cooking veggies.

Oh no! I don't have enough eggs!

I had to ease open the fridge again. Buddy still refused to move. I took out the carton of eggs, hastily cracked the last two of them into the bowl I'd just set into the sink, threw in the necessary ingredients and tossed the mixture into the skillet to cook for ten minutes.

Instead of moving away, he scooted over to the stove!

I was ready to place the egg frittata in the oven to broil. Buddy chose that moment to lie in front of the stove. "BUDDY!" I croaked. "Ya gotta mooove. This is not your BED."

I cracked open the oven to show him I meant business.  He eased up and lumbered less than a foot away, just far enough to clear the oven door.

I groaned.  Okay. Four minutes.

After four minutes, I looked in the oven. It looked like the cheese was very melted and starting to burn. I whipped the door open and grabbed the skillet with my mitt and slammed it on the stove burner.

The recipe said "Cook 4 feet away from the burner for 1 minute." Oh. I had it in reverse. I laughed. This would do.

Mom called up the stairs. "Is supper ready?"

"Yep. I'm bringing it now." I carefully balanced the skillet in my hand. I didn't want it to go flying and I didn't want to miss a step.

Now settled back down in front of the fridge, with one eye open my trusty Buddy watched me leave the kitchen. A big doggy sigh escaped his lips as he settled his head onto the floor. He could finally relax. One more meal over with.

A pretty good vision day for me.  No catastrophes. I'd have to remember to call my friend back and gloat.

A Bad ‘Cooking’ Day
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10 thoughts on “A Bad ‘Cooking’ Day

  • January 6, 2014 at 1:19 pm
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    I loved the humor and detail of your post … and all the obstacles overcome! Buddy or not … you got it done! 😉

  • January 6, 2014 at 4:39 pm
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    Thanks, Paula! I think cooking is one of those things that people can relate to, because we all have good and bad cooking days! Check back for more funny stories in my column, A Sight for Sore Eyes.

  • January 6, 2014 at 8:08 pm
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    For me stepping inside the kitchen itself is a disaster. So I don’t even have to tell about actually cooking a full meal na? ;)…. Loved the post. 🙂

    P.S. hope this time you do get this comment. 🙂

  • January 6, 2014 at 11:11 pm
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    Beautifully written!
    My pet “Hunter”is the same way.
    He’s under my feet,while cooking.I do the,”Oops ,swirl and scoot.So i don’t fall!

  • January 6, 2014 at 11:37 pm
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    Thanks for reading my cooking story, Sonja! Ha ha! Hunter is a lucky dog! I used to put Buddy behind his gate but he’s now a senior dog and likes to be near … maybe the hot oven! He looks pretty content lying there. While he exasperates me sometimes, usually it just makes me laugh. He’s pretty quick to gobble up any food I drop! =)

  • January 6, 2014 at 11:38 pm
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    Thanks Shethal for your encouraging comment! Hope you stop back to read more of my humorous stories.

  • January 6, 2014 at 11:43 pm
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    Hi Sheethal,
    Got this one now, too! Ha ha! I only cooked once in awhile till my mom closed up shop and passed the job onto me. But, I have to admit, I’m starting to enjoy the task, or at the very least, my adventures! Have a great day!
    Amy

  • January 7, 2014 at 2:06 pm
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    I think you did well, Amy, & didn’t lose your cool. I had nine to supper the other night (4 children), unexpected,& a very, very small kitchen. Somehow one just manages!!

  • January 8, 2014 at 3:43 am
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    Nine, Rosemary! I can imagine the scene now…that sounds quite fun (maybe even because of the tight quarters!). I like your approach, too. “Somehow one just manages!” That will be my new mantra. Aside from what I cooked when I was married, being in charge of my family’s meals is my biggest challenge. I’m getting to where I rather like it. =) I always imagine myself a grand chef ~ except the end result isn’t nearly as pretty! =) Thanks for reading!
    Amy

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