What's in that, anyway?

Recently, a few people I know have asked me for recipes. I smile and nod, but inside I panic. You see, it's not that I don't want to share. Really, I'd love to. The problem is that I just don't really remember how I made it. I used to keep notes when I cooked. I'd measure, stir, make a note, adjust, etc. I'd pretend I was a guest chef on the Food Network. Then, when I was done, I'd write out the recipe. It didn't take long to find out that I never do anything the same way twice. And then, too, life happened (read: kids, job, housework, husband, dog, aargh).

Lately, while in the process of wrapping up the end of the school year and moving my classroom (teachers are the worst pack rats), I've been throwing things together that allow me to multitask while cooking. Tonight, for instance, I arrived home at 5:30 to a ringing phone and a baying dog. It was cold, so we needed a fire. After a quick peek in the freezer to check on what was handy (shucks, no pizza), I started a fire. Meanwhile, there was stew meat thawing in the microwave. Somebody lets the dog in. She knocks me over by the fireplace and ashes go everywhere. The meat is done. I go to get it out and realize the water is running in the bathroom. I got to check. Nobody's in there. That darn Nobody is responsible for a lot of things around here. Oh, yeah, the meat! I unwrap the meat and get out an onion. STILL cold in here. I walk over to my messy fireplace. The fire died. I shove more paper in there thinking about a book I just read where a little boy starts a fire with shavings and two sticks. Why is it so hard to do for real?!? The dog runs by full speed again, and I dodge this time. But the boy running behind her knocks me off my feet again. Mothers ought to get hazard pay - or at least protective gear to wear.

Back into the kitchen I go, wondering if I can cook a meal before bedtime. The buzzer on the drier goes off. Ah, yes, dinner. Quick, brown an onion! Next, coat the meat in flour and salt and Pappy's seasoning. Brown them in two different pans to cut down on cooking time. Throw it all into the pressure cooker with a bottle of home-brew, some thyme, shitake mushrooms, a potato, a bit of bacon, water and a sprinkling of au jus mix (I'm out of beef or chicken broth). Put on the lid. WHAT IS THAT DOG DOING WEARING MY UNDERWEAR?!?! Chase the dog. Get a bit steamed at the kids for laughing because they put them on her. Oh, yeah, dinner. How about some itty-bitty corn biscuits? The dog lays down. Praise Jesus! Maybe I can go to the bathroom. Claire locks Josh outside and there is much pounding at the door. I am out of toilet paper. He's pounding and screaming at the door now. I waddle to get toilet paper and yell at the kids. Something is burning. Forget dinner. Where is my glass of wine?

Now you know why I can't remember amounts of things in my recipes.