That Was Supposed to be Easy or Naked in the Kitchen

Have you ever noticed how often something that's supposed to be easy, turns out to be hard?

I had a lot to do Friday. Pay bills, get new tags for our cars, buy groceries, do laundry, and get some words out of the too-long manuscript. I accomplished the first three in a reasonable amount of time. Since I'm a multi-tasker, the laundry was moving along all right too. I put in some steaks to marinade so we could have an easy dinner. Then I was going to take five minutes and whip up some pimento cheese so I could dedicate the rest of my day to THE WORDS.

The Guy loves pimento cheese. You'd think he was born southern and had been fed off bridal tea and baby shower tables since birth. Not so. He came to me thinking that the Kraft pimento cheese spread that comes in those little juice glasses is the real deal. I disabused him of that notion and he's been on the pimento cheese train ever since. Precious—of book club and beach trip fame—makes the best on the planet and she has coached me into being able to create a pretty fair facsimile.

I was all ready. I had the food processor out, plus my pepper jack and sharp cheddar (equal parts), light and full fat Hellman's mayonnaise (equal parts to desired consistency), and the sacred jar of chopped pimentos. Now let me say, I don't know what Precious does, but I buy the big jar. If I'm going to make pimento cheese, I don't fool around. If you aren't going to put enough pimento in it, you might as well buy that Kraft stuff. You won't have anything fit to eat, but you would at least end up with a tacky juice glass.

It would be appropriate at this point to tell you that I did not put on an apron. "Who," you may ask, "wears aprons in this day in age?" Well, me. I am messy and the people in my life understand that. Thanks to their generosity, I always have a decent stack of cute aprons, clean, folded, and ready to go. Usually, I have the sense to put one on, but how much trouble could I get into in the time it takes to make pimento cheese?

And, indeed, it was going okay. I grated the cheese and put it in the mixing bowl. I put the processor and blades in the dishwasher without spilling cheese or my blood. The mayo was ready.

Then…I reached for the pimento and the tea towel I would need to give me purchase to remove the sealed top. The top never came off. Apparently, the jar was cracked because it came apart in my hands. Turns out, chopped pimento is a little like glitter, in that the second you turn it loose, it's everywhere. On the counter, on the white cabinets, on the floor, and—most of all--on me. I was wearing what I consider to be one of my midlevel ensembles—orange linen pants, a nice white t-shirt, and orange flip-flops—you know the kind of thing you'd wear to the courthouse and Publix, but not out to dinner.

My friends, if there was ever in doubt, let me assure you, orange and red do not look good together. It didn't do a lot for my favorite white t-shirt either. If only there had been a pimento parade, I could have gone as a big pimento monster. Since there was no such function to attend, I clearly had to shed my clothes. When I moved, I squished. I'd never had pimento juice in my bra before. When I took a step, pimento went flying. I had just deep cleaned my kitchen a few weeks back and this was doing nothing to maintain anyone's definition of pristine.

I stripped right there by the sink. Then I balled up my clothes and tiptoed to the laundry room. In retrospect, I don't know why I thought tiptoeing would keep the house painters next door from seeing me. I don't think they did but I didn't give it too much thought. I was having enough trouble. I put on a shirt covered in spots from the pre-treat solution that was necessary because of another time I didn't wear an apron.

Eventually, I got everything cleaned up. Since I'd bought two jars of pimentos, I even ended up with pimento cheese. But, counting the phone calls I had to make to illicit sympathy from The Guy and Oldest Friend, it took me two hours. Plotter is lucky she was at school or I would have called her too.

The upside was, by the time I got to the WIP, cutting words was a cinch.

What have you incorrectly expected to be easy?

*************************************************************************************


The winner from Friday's contest is Sherry. No, our hero's name is not Dane; it's Luke. But both names are one syllable and start with a consonant. We admit, it wasn't the best idea for a contest so we had to readjust. That's probably going to happen again.

Sherry, you've got a prize coming.