A PASTA MACHINE

The Roderick family has a pasta machine that we seldom use. Not because we don't like fresh pasta . . . of course, we do . . . but I am lazy and hate cleaning it. Too many little parts . . . too many nooks and crannies . . . to much stuff gets stuck . . . it reminds me of changing messy diapers, but I digress.

There is one part that is interesting. It is called an extruder and it pushes the dough through a very small template and it shapes the pasta. Gnochi, spaghetti, penne, etc . . . whatever is your pasta pleasure.

That is all background and has set you up for my story. Scott and I have a routine . . . I go to bed and read . . . Scott does his hygiene thing . . . brushes teeth, shaves, bathroom . . . you get the picture.

So I hear him in the bathroom, making his manly sounds, and he is more verbal than usual. I ask the obvious question, "What are you doing?" His reply, "I'm extruding". My reply, "What shape are you trying to make?"

I love my husband.