Feeling berry culinary

My dear, sweet mother has been putting up with my cooking blunders since grade school. However, after years of practice I though I had left my careless ways and had graduated to master chef who never messes up. But marriage seems to bring out old habits. The fact that I can't even cook a toaster pastry with out burning it has me a bit frazzled.

Just this week I was preparing a spinach pasta dish that called for Italian sausage. I took the links from the package, and cutting them into half inch slices, tossed them in my wok. However, the sausage had a skin I failed to remove which started to shrink from the heat. I began to notice when all my happy sausages were looking more like a marshmallow with a string tied in the middle, slowly squeezing it in two rather that tasty pig morsels. I turned off the heat and sat the pan off the burner. I had thought the skin was edible but due to recent developments I was quickly concocting suspicions. I stabbed one with a clean fork and blew on it for a moment before plopping it into my mouth. As my molars worked and gridded down on my victimized sample I discovered that, while the meat was breaking apart in my mouth, the skin could not be torn nor (I suspect) dissolved with the most acidic toxin. When the sausage had cooled just enough for me to handle it, I took my little fingers and pulled the ring of skin off each little bite. . . one by one. . . The night of cooking disasters didn't end there. Luckily, I have a very patient husband who didn't say anything when dinner was two hours late.

Feeling berry odd.

If I had to introduce myself to strangers, regurgitating facts that no one would remember the next day, I begin with the most superficial like my name, my school, my major, my job, etc. There are certain things I wouldn’t tell people. They have to be around me to know them anyway. That’s why job interviews are so hard. You can tell a potential employer that you are smart and honest and that you are majoring in something seeming useless, but what does that really say about me anyway? That I’m no good at lying so I don’t bother, I can spew useless facts when you least want to hear them, and I don’t care to better society with these ever so important skills and am therefore self-serving. Great impression.

What couldn’t be learned about me in five minutes could be my most valuable characteristics. For instance, from an infinitesimal exposure to me you would never learn that I tend to tilt my head to the left when I’m relaxed or thinking. Such habit began in my ninth grade year when I decided that I needed a change in my life and began parting my hair on the opposite side of my head. However, this introduced a mop of hair to shield my vision which could be marginally avoided with the ever so slight tilt of my neck to the left. What a potential employer could learn from this is that I’m okay to make adjustments to adapt to new situations, and that I’m very habitual by nature. When I find what works I roll with it. Or they may just pick up that I hate having my hair stuck in my chapstick (which could be valuable information too. . . somehow).