Our reaction to our recent encounter with the Italian delicacy, Spaghetti, was somewhat similar to the one displayed above. Having been taught by her Italian father, my mother wisely taught all her children the secret recipe to the most authentic pasta sauce ever! I came into my marriage knowing how to cook just that… and ONLY that. Since pasta is such a quick meal, I decided I would make a triple batch and freeze it all so that we would always have something easy to fix for dinner. After collecting all the ingredients over the course of a few weeks, the big night came. I taught Nate everything he needed to know about Italian sauce and it turned out perfect! Nate baked some bread sticks and exhausted, we settled in to watch a movie while we ate our masterpiece! Knowing that the longer the sauce simmers, the more rich it will become, I left the pots of sauce on low during our movie. However, once we ate that last noodle… our plates hit the floor and our heads hit the pillows… much like that pleasant post-Thanksgiving drowsiness.
Rather groggy and confused, I awoke at 5:30 am. My dreams had been filled with tomatoes, garlic, parsley, oregano and basil. In my dream, the smell had been so real… because it was! We had left the stove on, and now our entire house smelled like the Macaroni Grill. Not too concerned, I went back to sleep after turning the burners off. But as the weeks have gone by, the smell has not dissipated. My purse… my jacket… my hair… my CLOTHES [which had been secured, down stairs, in a closet, BEHIND CLOSED DOORS]…. everything is saturated with the smell from my dreams. No amount of Febreeze can cure it… There is no escape.