Matrimonial Pasta

My friends, Mark & Ed, are getting married tomorrow. Mark goes on vision quests in the depths of forests, has an avid yoga life, works with meth addicts, and has a private tantra energy work practice. Ed is a seamster (what is the male version of seamstress?) - makes wedding dresses, the dress for Miss. Washington, hems my jeans, etc. and also makes a mean pate - or so I've heard - I can't bring myself to try it. It looks a little too gelatinous to me. They aren't having an officiant and I expect there to be a lot of chanting, perhaps some transcendence. Perhaps I will emerge in a different time period. With a different head.

At their parties, the yoga folks occupy one corner and look a little skeptical of us public health folks who are typically suffocating the food table area. They also look rather flexible and strong, and grounded, and we, well, don't. I'm not sure how we will mingle.

I am charged with making 5lb of dry pasta for the reception dinner (what is that, 10 lb cooked?). This is going to be interesting because:
1) I have a very, very, very small kitchen & consequently very, very, very small pots
2) I always screw up pasta.

I'm thinking if I turn up the temperature of the water heater, then start a hot water cycle in the clothes washer, I might be able to boil all of the pasta at once. And clean a load of whites at the same time. A little bleach never hurt anybody.

I won't even tell you what I'm planning to do with the pesto.