Traumatic cooking experience

Well, I was not going to share this story because as you will be able to soon imagine it is highly embarrassing. The only thing good is that my family hates computers and even more so the Internet, so I am safe in assuming that they will never read this. The other day I was feeling very inspired and decided to cook a family meal that would be different. Because you see I have this feeling that we eat the same things all of the time, which is really not so much a feeling as an actuality. So I get out my little cook book and I come across a wonderful sounding recipe that involves chicken, cheese tortillas and some various other parts. Of course this sounds very easy (and wonderfully delicious). So Parker and I go traipsing off to the store to get all of the essential ingredients. While I am standing in the produce section of our local grocery store I must have looked very lost (Of course you must understand I rarely buy fresh things that are unknown to me). I try very hard to stick to known substances which would be the major food group items. But for this recipe that I can already see Gordon raving over I needed fresh parsley. As I am standing there and Parker is looking at me like come on mom! a very nice older gentlemen that works there asks me if I need help. Of course I am not one to turn down free advice (especially not from him because he miraculously always seems to be where I need him when I need him and his advice has yet to fail me). I tell him I do indeed need help and I tell him what I need. He immediately turns to the section (obviously marked parsley) and pulls down a beautiful bundle of the aromatic green bundle. He asks me what I am using it for, and I tell him what my intentions are. He kindly informs me to remove the end form the skinny stalks before putting it in my soon to be delicious mix of things. I go home and start making it. Gordon gets home and starts helping me (because little did I know you have to cut things up, stir the hot boiling oozing cheesy stuff AND get the tortillas ready) all at the same time. To an expert this is nothing, to me this is a disaster. So while Gordy is stirring things I proudly produce my fresh parsley from the fridge. I wash it off tear the tops off and proceed to throw it in. As I finish the last bit of throwing the parsley chunks into the melting lava that was at one time cheese Gordon yells "WHAT are you doing!?!?!?!" Of course since I naturally have a sweet nature and am not at all given to panic I answer "putting in the parsley" which he then says to "You have to cut it up!! LOOK at the picture in the book, they are NOT hunks they are tiny pieces." Of course my first thought is to remove the large hunks of parsley, which at this time is looking more and more like spinach from the moulting lava. Of course after 5 years of marriage and being able to read me pretty well, Gordy at once says "just leave it, it'll be ok." Which is his code way of saying "I am not putting burn ointment on your fingers every 4-6 hours and cooking dinner!" So we mix the rest together put it in the tortillas and place them safely in the oven. As we are eating my fabulous dinner we had to occasionally pull out chunks of a spinach like substance that oddly tasted of parsley. Needless to say we did not eat all of the 12 chicken cheese things that it made. My dreams of a beautiful amazing tasting dinner was out the window, but who cares right? We didn't starve AND we got some good tips for next time we cook something that requires fresh items. Needless to say I don't think I will ever make that again, the huge chunks of parsley will haunt me forever. And when I go back to the store I will not be sharing my horror story of how the parsley ruined my wonderful dinner to the kind elderly gentleman that had faithfully guided me in the right ways of cooking for countless years. I just can't let him down.