Last weekend, I made some egg-noodles in preparation for a “Mama Boe Cooking Class” for Varmint’s friends.
I hopped out of bed before anyone else and, still in my ultra-feminine (not), 800-thread count (not), Egyptian Cotton (not) Pajamas, began what I like to call “An Un-holy Mess.”
And without a drop of common sense, I worked the noodle dough without my trusty apron.
Neither did I roll up my sleeves, apparently.
And frankly, I looked like my children….after art class….when they were freaking TODDLERS.
I didn’t miss a single scalloped ribbon edge on my jammies. I hit every blooming part of my mid-section. 
And the dishwasher…
And the kitchen rug…
I know, I know…planning, forethought, pro-action…all of these things are essential for any organized cook. But let me ask you this…
When was the last time you pushed back from an amazing meal, rubbed your tummy, undid your belt, belched an un-Godly belch and exclaimed, “THAT was the MOST ORGANIZED meal I have ever eaten!”
The Defense rests.
If you need me, I’ll be in the kitchen with a mop….
Mama Boe 