Dear Neighbor,

My husband and I had out-of-town guests every weekend in February. (We’re not always that popular, it’s just the way it worked out.)

I should have known better.

The hairstylist looked like she’d been hit by the bad hair train. She held a comb in one hand and a slimy wad of tissue paper in the other. She seemed to think spraying my hair twice with suspicious-looking water amounted to wetting my hair before cutting it.

I should have run away.

I thought my microwave-induced explosions were over.

Standing in front of the microwave while making microwave oatmeal, I was a first-hand witness to the incident. The oats rose as one, mushrooming and then foaming over the sides of the bowl in a disgusting, grey avalanche.

Thankfully, I was able to spoon enough of it back into the bowl to make a meal.

Yum.

What ridiculously simple dish will I blow up next? Tune in next time to find out. (It won’t be long…) 

I’m going to go ahead and count this as a success.

My husband and my cousin only had to intervene in the cooking process five times.

The smoke alarm only went off twice.

And when the food was placed before my guests, no one grimaced, laughed or cried.

That’s all a Helpless Housewife can ask for.

This is my cousin and friend Jenny.

She loves Martha Stewart, cooking and taking care of a home just like I do. Only she's good at it.

She came to visit me this weekend and taught me all sorts of things: