Jacquie O'Connor

My Italian mother did not teach me how to cook. She was too busy raising three wild kids and going part-time to night school in order to obtain her master's degree in Social Work. Actually, even if she did have the time, I am not really sure that she even knew how to cook. The most creative she got was pizza muffins. So I entered adulthood not even knowing how long it takes to boil an egg. I did OK for a while...I mean who needs to know how to cook in college? Just order a pizza and call it a day. And then I toured with Theatre IV for a few years and discovered the FABULOUS world of fast food! Then I decided to stop touring, live in Richmond and get an apartment. That's when the problems started. My cousin John and his wife Bonni had just moved to Richmond and I finally decided that it was time to invite them over for dinner (they had me over MANY times and it was just rude not to return the invite). I went to Ukrops, thinking that something would jump out at me. Well, something did...a pre-cooked lemon chicken by Perdue. I figured what could go wrong? And the best part is they would never know I didn't cook it! I cleaned the house, put the chicken in the oven, lit some candles and they arrived. It started out as a lovely evening. Wine, talk...we sat down to enjoy the first course (salad in a bag) and that's when the smoke detector went off. I wasn't too concerned at first. I remember saying to John and Bonni, "Don't worry there's no fire, the stove just smokes a lot and the detector was very sensitive." I went into the kitchen to check the chicken and was surprised to discover that there was no smoke coming from the stove. The detector was at the top of the stairs, so I looked up the staircase to see what the heck was going on. That's when I saw the flames coming from the bathroom. I ran up the stairs screaming "There is a fire, there is a fire!" I had lit one of those big candles with three wicks and somehow the wick had fallen through and because it was resting on a wicker basket on top of the toilet (yes, I was that dumb), it had immediately caught on fire. Now to make matters worse, my mother had given me this tacky bird display made entirely out of twigs, which just happened to be hanging over the toilet bowl above the candle (YES, I WAS THAT DUMB!) So needless to say, that was up in flames as well! I am staring at this and panicked...screaming to John..."GET SOME WATER!" (OK...I am in a bathroom...do I think to use the sink water, toilet water or shower water...NO!) Bonni is screaming "Should I call 911?" John comes running up the stairs with a pot of water, pushes me out of the way and tosses it. Then he adds more water from the sink and the fire goes out. It takes us 2 hours to clean up the mess at which point we are STARVING! I did have enough sense to turn off the chicken during this and so we all go downstairs to re-heat it and finally eat. It still looks good to me...moist. We sit down (covered in soot) and John and Bonni take the first bite. I wish I could have taken a picture of their faces. I take a bite. It is the worst thing I have ever put in my mouth. Total rubber and the lemon...well, it was horrible. We got to laughing so hard. I picked up the phone and ordered a pizza.

It was a very long time before I invited anyone over for dinner...and John and Bonni, I don't know why, but they keep turning me down when I invite them over for dinner.