Tahoe Pine Nuts: A case of mistaken identity
This is ridiculous, but in my world, ridiculous happens.
Admittedly, I am the world’s worst shopper since Adam himself. When I walk into a grocery store I overhear whisperings like, “Hey, watch this guy, he never has a list, he never reads labels or looks at prices, he leaves his engine running.”
Well, this infirmity of mine always leads to trouble, and yesterday it resulted in an embarrassing episode. In that I am married to Marie Callender, I picked up a package of her lasagna at Raley’s and couldn’t wait to get it into the oven.
But in examining the cooking instructions I was left in doubt as to whether to place it in the oven frozen or defrosted, and not wanting to take any chances in the kitchen as I am prone to do, I called a telephone number listed on the label and got a recording. “Please leave a message and we will call you back.” So I left a message and poured myself a glass of wine.
Around eight o’clock I answered the phone and heard, “This is Michelangelo!”
I supposed this Michelangelo fellow was here in Nevada to perform in a Chautauqua. and I am always open and welcoming to Chautauquans. In fact I have more dead friends than live ones. (I call Gertrude Stein, “Gerty.”)
The idea that this could be my lasagna call back never even crossed my mind. Chautauqua was at the forefront of my cerebral cortex and lasagna was on the back burner.
So I say, “Hey, Angelo, I still have a stiff neck from looking at your frescos on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel!”
He goes along with me and chimes in with, “You have no idea how long it took me to get used to working upside down. Not only is my back out of whack, but, yes, my neck too!”
“Angelo, if you want to see a chiropractor while you’re here, we’ve got one that will have you ready to tackle the ceiling at Oracle Arena.”
“Where is Oracle Arena?”
“Oakland! But don’t worry, I’ll show you around. Where are you calling from, anyway?”
“New Jersey?! What are you doing in New Jersey?”
“Making lasagna? You’re not performing in Chautauqua?”
“I don’t know Chautauqua from Chihuahua; I do lasagna.”
Now I am confused, as it has yet to impinge upon my dull consciousness that this could be my lasagna call back.
“Put your lasagna in the oven FROZEN!”
Then, I had an epiphany. This was not an impressionist of Michelangelo after all, nor was this Marie Callender. This was Michelangelo of New Jersey calling to tell me to put my lasagna in the oven FROZEN!
How much of this gentleman’s time I wasted I cannot estimate. But he must have hung up the phone and said to his wife, “You would not believe the nut I just talked to.”
The lasagna, however, was, in fact, delicious … thank you, Michelangelo!
Learn more about McAvoy Layne at http://www.ghostoftwain.com.
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