phone

… or don’t care about.

Lloyd was talking to Brad on the phone last night and I yelled, “Ask Brad what we should have for dinner.”

Lloyd – “Lauren wants to know what we should have for dinner.”

Brad – “Enchiladas.”

Lloyd – “Enchiladas.”

Me – “We don’t have the stuff.”

Lloyd – “We don’t have the stuff.”

Brad – “Isn’t improvisation her thing?”

Lloyd – “Isn’t improvisation your thing?”

Me – “We had improvisation last night.”

Lloyd – “Thanks, Brad. Now we’re going to have tuna enchiladas.”

So, no, we did not have tuna enchiladas, we had Messed-Up Spaghetti because I didn’t have any jarred sauce. I put a can of tomatoes in the pan and whirred it up with the stick blender, which is great fun.

Then some frozen ground meat and spices were thrown in, the batch was tasted, and I found I had killed all the tomato flavor with my ‘spices’.

(Basil, garlic, some celery (I don’t know why) and a gigantic glug of Italian dressing.)

Bleh. It needed tomato paste.

Now, I have never used an entire can of tomato paste at one time in my life. I’m always freezing the leftover dabs, then finding their frozen corpses in the freezer months later. I actually thought of that ahead of time and checked the freeezer. No dabs. So, finally this too-long post will get to the jist: When opening a can of tomato paste, cut off both ends and push it out like a push-pop. You will get every little bit out of the can, even that little bit you’ll throw away in August.

The end.