Stuff me with filling

This past weekend I went to my mom's for the annual ravioli-making festivities. Give or take a year or two when I was unable to make it home, I've been making ravioli every year for ... as long as I can remember. When I was a kid, we made them in my grandma's basement. After grandma died, my mom insisted we continue the tradition (umm, we TOLD her that we were going to continue the tradition and that we would be making ravioli at her house.)
Last year about this time, my mom's house was on the market and she didn't want to make ravioli there because we would create too much of a mess. She lost that battle.
This year, she didn't want to make ravioli at her house because it's brand-spankin' new and we would get too much flour on the hardwood floors. You guessed it. She lost the battle again.

So, here we have the highlights from Raviolipalooza 2008:

Mom instucting Meg to get more "manly" while mixing the filling.

If it weren't for the 18 raw eggs, I could've eaten the entire bowl.

An arm made of dough.

I am the queen of ravioli filling spreading.

Best part about this photo is that Meg and I are screwing around while Col labors in the background to get all the semolina off the floor.