I cooked supper tonight. it wasn't sandwiches. it wasn't mr. noodle. it wasn't even marshmellow pancakes. pork, potatoes, corn and cake. what is most interesting to me is not that I actually cooked a meal and that that meal turned out to be edible, but how shocked my family was that I did it.


when geoffrey and I spoke to the units on the phone earlier this evening, he was, as usual, the one to receive directions for how to start supper. the m.u. has tried using me before, but I tend to tune out during vital segments or forget key words and phrases, like "375 degrees" or "stir so it won't stick". sometimes I forget that the conversation happened entirely.


but today, geoffrey, having written down directions for how to cook up pork, was faced with a dilemma. he wanted to take off to a friend's house to watch the sabres game, but that would mean leaving me alone and solely responsible for the well-being of our supper. "are you sure you can do this?" he asked. "want me to stick around and do it for you?" "dude." I said. "I'm 22. I can put meat in the oven. I'm not a complete tool." and he laughed. "actually, laura," he said, "yes, you are."


but eventually, he left me with a mistrustful glance, his cell phone number and a "make sure you don't forget". so I cooked supper. and it was awesome. and my little brother is totally more domesticated than me.