An Unexpected Twist in the Plot

As soccer season draws to a close for high school boys, so does pasta dinner season. Nights before home games are filled with tastes of Italy, or some variation...spaghetti, lasagne, rigatoni, garlic...

For some unknown reason, I thought it was a good idea to add my name to the volunteer sheet (that sentence could really stop right there, but it goes on) toward the end of the season. Right when things are at the height of chaos. And on top of that...well, let me just give you the original title for this particular posting: "Never Sign Up to Bring Pasta to an Italian Woman's House." 

Where Did I Go Wrong?

I'm not exactly sure when it was clear that the soft, hot pretzels were destined to become dinner for the mouse that steals from my garbage can. In hindsight, I think it was right from the beginning, when I wondered if the yeast and sugar had spent enough time turning into the "creamy" mixture the recipe described.

Or three minutes later when I'd added the 8th tablespoon of water to the dough in order to "soften it up a little bit." Well, okay...in order to actually have it look like something more than a pile of crumbled up old chewing gum.