Driving me to drink!

My mother is driving me to drink.  And with the medication I’m on, I’m not supposed to drink, which adds to the frustration!

She complains all the time about how I need to “get rid of all that junk”, yet when I visit, she loads my car up with her unwanted tchachkies.  Most recently, a pasta maker.

In the past few years, I’ve become quite adept at making our traditional Polish Christmas Eve dinner – pierogi.  Using a combination of recipes from two different relatives, I’ve come up with a pretty good balance of ingredients to make a tasty dough and a sweet cheese filling.  But I still have some issues rolling out the dough.

My first attempt yielded a dough that shrank each time I rolled it out.  I’d roll, it’d shrink.  I’d roll faster, it’d shrink faster.  I rolled smaller batches and really put my back into it.  Eventually, I wound up with dough that wasn’t thin enough for her liking, although it was fairly tasty and did the trick.

She bought me some pastry doo-dads that work like this.  You line the doo-dad with dough and add your filling.  Then you close the doo-dad which creates a semi-circular dough packet – theoretically sealed – all in one motion.  I’ve never used them.  They seem like too much work.

So she came up with the pasta maker idea.  A friend was getting rid of one and she took it.  It was a few years before I drove back to NJ and had room enough to bring it home.  It went like this:

Mom: Here, take the pasta maker to make the pierogi dough.

Me: I don’t want it.

Mom: Take it.  Maybe it will help.

Me:  I don’t want it.

Mom.  I’ll put it in the car.

So now I have a pasta maker I’ll never use and have nowhere to store because of all the other junk I haven’t gotten rid of yet.  And I feel like I need to keep it for when she comes this winter.  I can just hear it now.

Mom: Where’s the pasta maker?

Me:  In the garage somewhere.

Mom: I thought you were going to use it to roll out the dough.

Me:  I don’t think so.

Mom:  Then why did you take it?

There is a bottle of wine in the fridge that will go bad if I don’t get to it soon.  Maybe just a shot… or six.

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