Hurricane Susie strikes again. As it does every night.

There are some things I know I'm good at.
Whining. Cat Mom. I have an eye for a good recipe and my couch laying skillz are unparalleled. Oh and humility.

Basically, I am amazing.

There are also some things I am not good at.
Talking at a reasonable volume. Keeping my eyes closed during prayers. And watching that Dan Jansen VISA commercial without crying.

Oh, let's add "clean cooking" to the list and call it a good start.

Seriously. I don't really understand how to cook without completely destroying my workspace. I'm at a loss. It's absolutely beyond me. I treat my kitchen like it's hurt me. Offended me. Like I have something to prove to it. You would think I don't like my kitchen if you saw me cook in it.

I've been called Hurricane Susie on more than a few cooking occasions. I thought, naively -- oh, it was a simpler time -- that it was the apartment kitchens to blame. Small. Formica. Cramped. I had no work space. I had no room to breathe. Naturally, I would fill up the 4 feet of counters. I had no choice.

No. No. Apparently, I have the Property of Fluidity: I have the ability to take the shape of the container around me. In this case, the container is a kitchen (any kitchen). The fluid is my mess. Physics = SMRT = Susie. (Does anyone actually believe I wrote this paragraph or it is pretty widely understood/acknowledged that this is Chuck's verbiage??)

I made dinner -- tacos because Jamie was coming over and 2 boys are cheaply fed with some sort of meat/bun combination (tortilla = taco bun). I made a double layer, Martha frosted chocolate cake for fun and we settled in to the already ruined Olympics because Yahoo! couldn't keep it's mouth shut this afternoon.

We sat on the couch.
I turned around.
I sighed.

Nothing else quite says "Susie was here."

"And it was good."

Here's your unedited, uncleaned, nothing added, nothing moved, nothing altered photo tour of my kitchen post dinner.

That is my personal cookbook (it's a photo album that I slide note cards into because I'm cheap). Chuck LOVES that I leave it on the stove.

Especially after this happened once. Play Disney and be an Imagineer. I'm sure you can figure out what happened.

Let it be known that this kitchen was 100% clean before I cooked tonight. This is the aftermath of ONE DINNER. One meal. When I got home, the counter tops were sparkling white, the floor still shined from Sunday's mopping. I would rather enjoy my warm meal, couch lay, go Internetting, and THEN clean -- once I have deemed my night over. My life. My terms.

Incredible that someone so small can be so destructive.


  1. She speaks the truth as I have seen this with my own eyes and in my kitchen. I am still cleaning funnel cake batter off the side and back of the refrigerator from two years ago. We had only left her unattented for a minute. I will agree that the meal is well worth the mess!!!MIL

  2. This is why we're best friends.

  3. Susie,
    There's this thing. It's called "clean as you cook."


Tell me about it. Oh and thanks for validating my life.

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