I missed a week, didn't I? Maybe because I am tired of embarrassing myself in front of the entire blogosphere all the time, okay? But as this seems to be the only way for my fridge to get cleaned out, I'm back to being humiliated. I regard this process as an expiatory exercise, akin to the Rite of Reconciliation (Confession, for you old-timers) in the Catholic Church.
Forgive me, Father, for I have wasted food.
You are forgiven, child; go forth and waste no more! Oh, and for penance, you must display to the world pictures of your profligacy.
In the front you can see our produce contestants this week: a forgotten bag of baby carrots, a dried bunch of cilantro (I think) and a dried bunch of something else green, and 2 apples. Could someone please explain to me how pioneer families kept bushels of apples fresh over the winter in their root cellars if I can't keep apples for 6 weeks in my fridge? I don't get it.
Moving on: hiding behind the produce is a saucepan of leftover hot cocoa. I would have heated it up, but I could never find a time when I wouldn't have to divide evenly, 6 ways, what little is left in there. I'd rather throw it out. Sorry. I am unrepentant on that one.
As you can see, I have segregated my leftover containers - glass on the left, plastic on the right. Perhaps in a non-fallen world the glass and the plastic would stack peaceably together; but, as we still live in a society riven by superficial differences, they are piled separately. To the left, from the top, are remnants of cooked broccoli, some tomato sauce (no idea where that came from), and cooked green beans (produce does seem to be the theme this week). On the right are the separate but equal containers of oatmeal, rice, tuna salad dregs (bleccch), and jello. Can jello go bad? Anyone?
Okay, I found another Santa joke (again, courtesy of Prairie Home Companion): Did you hear about the dyslexic devil worshipper?
He sold his soul to Santa. Ba-da-bum...