Sunday, November 11, 2012


My boo and I made homemade spaghetti sauce, and canned 26 quarts.  It's a process that took about four days to complete, and I'm still trying to find the space for him to store it all.  It's some pretty amazing stuff though -- full of beef, sausage, veggies, and fresh tomatoes.  Those of our friends who have tasted it have begged for more, and for good reason.  The man can COOK.

We discussed the fact that he needed to come up with a good name and label it, so we could give it away for Christmas.  He called it Cleveland Red,"bottled in the Mistake by the Lake, Parma, OH", labelled one bottle, and left it sitting on the coffee table in my living room.

So, Jill and Michael were home this weekend, to attend a wedding for a friend.  A great time was had by all, and Jim has decided that Seth might just be in demand by every fraternity on whatever campus he lands on, because the boy let it loose.  It was fun to watch the kids out there tearing it up, especially given the fact that Seth was exhausted going in, because he'd been to a lockin at school the night before.  Jillie and Michael went to hang out with friends afterward, Seth came home and, of course, fell asleep on the living room floor, and I hit the sack early.

This morning, Thomas decided to make me breakfast.  He asked me rather nonchalantly "do you smell poop?"  Keep in mind that this is not out of the question when there are three dogs in the house.  Of course, my nose is typically fairly nonfunctional, but yeah, I smelled something that seemed off in the living room.  Neither of us could find the source, but something wasn't right.  I kind of got distracted by the wonderful breakfast, but then Seth came upstairs.  Seth has a nose like a bloodhound -- probably even MORE sensitive -- and he made a beeline out to the living room to see what was up. ( Irony.)

Next thing you know, I hear him say "Mom, come here."  "What?  I'm eating."  "Ummmmm, you need to come here."  So, I wander out there, mildly annoyed that my French scrambled eggs will either a) get cold or b) be eaten by a dog, and find Seth standing in the living room looking up.  I look up, and realize that the ceiling is covered with something red.

It took a minute to register that the stains were spaghetti sauce.

Apparently, we must've not filled that can up far enough, and the pressure built up in the jar until the top blew completely off.  There was spaghetti sauce on the ceiling, walls, tables and carpet, making it look slighly like a murder scene.  I'm still waiting for Shemar Moore to arrive........

I scraped the ceiling off with a spatula, washed the tables and will deal with the few spots on the carpet later -- they were already dried, and they're little enough not to worry about.  I've already called the painter, and will finally get the living room and dining room painted, like I've planned to do since I moved in.

Meantime, I think that we should rename the sauce USMC IED Spaghetti Sauce.  The only sauce that you need a helmet to use.

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