Sunday, April 1, 2012

Oh, like you could cook them any better.

I'm not a professional chef.  I'm a ninja.  Ninjas don't cook well.  Ninjas don't need to cook well.  Ninjas steal food as it's headed toward other people's open pie holes, leaving the victims with empty forks, and bewildered expressions on their faces.

Once a ninja bears offspring, they are often forced to learn the basics of cooking in order to keep their young alive.  Sadly, this means more than fancy sword work with Japanese steel.  It means actually learning to prepare food and cook it and stuff.

Every once in a while, okay, more than just once in a while, I am just to danged lazy to prepare an actual meal.  That's where fish sticks come in.  No, they're not healthy.  No, they're not really tasty.  But it was a Friday during Lent and I was at a loss.  I was bound by the laws of Catholicism to serve my family some form of a sea creature and the Gorton's fisherman was there to save the day with his breaded, minced fish parts. 

I still had to cook this stuff though.  You know, "teach a ninja to fish" and all that.   Now, I've been kicking motherhood's ass for 13 years.  My spawn are all still going strong, thanks to my awesome ninja/parenting skills.  I've learned a lot over the years:  I've learned how to boil an egg.  I've learned how to grate cheese. 
I have learned the importance of preheating the oven and while preheating is super-great... sticks tend to cook faster if you put them inside the oven.  

What.  I'm still learning.

Shut up.

Some Other Stuff I Wrote