Pasta La Pizza, Baby!

I called The Pony into the kitchen to help me make his pasta on Tuesday night. He is capable of making his own pasta, since he survived three years of college after he moved out of the dorm that was across the street from Papa John's Pizza. The Pony thinks I am reining him in, but in reality, I am just looking out for my kitchen.

"I need the big skillet to fry the hamburger to put in Dad's sauce."

"This one?"

"That's the small one that was sitting on top of the big one. But okay, it will probably do."

Seriously! They were nestled. The little skillet inside the big skillet, in the drawer at the bottom of the stove. I don't know how he saw one without the other. Nor suddenly forgot little in comparison to big.

"Now, I need the big pan for the noodles."

"This one?"

"No. Not that one. Here. Give that one to me for the sauce. Now the BIG pan. With two handles. Set it on the front burner until I get this hamburger done and out of the way."

"Okay."

"You can start the sauce. You want that jar kind you bought? Pour it in. It might not be enough. Open a little jar of pizza sauce to add. Maybe just half. That's what I usually do."

I was turned, putting grease bread out of the hamburger skillet into a bowl for the dogs' treat the next day. When I turned back to the skillet, I noticed The Pony right next to it,

POURING THE JAR OF SAUCE INTO THE BIG PAN!

"WAIT! What are you DOING? Why did you pour pasta sauce in the big pan??? That's for the noodles! It's a big pot for putting in lots of water and boiling noodles! They foam up."

"Well, I know you always use this pan when we have pasta..."

"FOR THE NOODLES! The sauce is always in that pan on the back burner. The saucepan. It's LITERALLY called a SAUCEpan!"

"Hush!"

"Here. I'll pour it into the saucepan. It won't hurt the big pan. I'm not rinsing it. Just more flavor for boiling the noodles. Now... you can make the garlic butter for the steak rolls."

The Pony was behind me, at the cutting block, spooning minced garlic into a bowl of softened I Can't Believe It's Not Butter. He had the steak rolls opened up, their tops and bottoms exposed on a pizza pan covered with foil, ready for buttering.

THUD!

"What was that? Do I want to know?"

"It was the fork that I was using to mix the garlic and the butter. I had it leaning on the side of the bowl, but when I used my knife to get some butter out for spreading, it tipped over because it wasn't balanced anymore, and the bowl was right at the edge of the cutting block..."

[Aha! A combination of the greasy bacon spoon flipping balance problem, and the diced chicken activity too close to the edge of the cutting block!]

"When you're done there, take this little can of mushrooms. The pop top thingy broke off. Use the can opener."

Simple, right? It's a manual can opener.

"Um. Here is your can opener to wash. It got the blade in the mushroom juice. The can is really full of juice."

But it doesn't end there. After The Pony went to soak in his nightly bath, I was putting away the leftovers in FRIG II. On the top shelf sat half a jar of PASTA SAUCE! The Pony had poured in the whole jar of pizza sauce, and only half the pasta sauce.