I got back from work late Friday evening, only to discover some food that still needed to be put away in the kitchen. Normally, I would be annoyed; but given our recent vinaigrette fiasco, I could hardly blame Larry for his reluctance to cram more leftovers into our icebox. Really, only a trained professional should even attempt such a task.
So I did. And I came up with a diagnosis of our problem:
Obviously, a serious case of Condiment Overload. Specifically, 2 bottles of applesauce, 3 mustards, 3 strawberry jams, 4 (count them, 4) tubs of margarine, and (of course) 4 jars of salsa.
Naturally, I decided to take pictures. And it occurred to me, as I aimed the camera, pausing now and then to tweak the lineup, that if Larry happened to come downstairs at that point, he might wonder why I was standing in the kitchen at midnight, snapping photos of mustard and margarine. And he might also reflect on the fact that, although we have many posed pictures of foodstuffs in our photo gallery, we have almost no formal portraits of our own children.
[In my own defense, it is way easier to pose the food than the children - the applesauce, for instance, never sticks its finger up its nose at just the wrong moment; and the salsa would never make a demon face at the camera. But I digress...]
What can I say? It was one of those moments that can make you question your purpose in life - make you wonder, say, whether you were really put on earth to catalog the contents of your refrigerator for future generations. Is this what it's all about? I mused. Is this what it comes down to, standing alone in my kitchen while everyone sleeps, fussing over how to arrange the salsa?
Apparently, yes. Check out these close-ups:
Ah, Salsa, how we love thee! Keen-eyed readers will observe that only one open jar of Tostitos brand salsa was not enough - we have two. Our old standby Taco Bell Medium is also represented, and then David's favorite - Salsa Verde. Would any of you believe that I never even tasted salsa until I was 17 years old? No? My kids don't either. But it's true.
Ironic, isn't it, now that our milk-allergic Theo has flown the nest, that we should have 4 tubs of dairy-free margarine residing in our fridge? And now they've been joined by the tub of butter I bought at the commissary on Saturday (and there's more of both in the downstairs refrigerator). Do note how nicely these tubs stack on the counter - for some reason, they don't do that in the refrigerator. They're always falling off and knocking over defenseless containers of vinaigrette instead.
I can explain this! On the left is our regular brand of strawberry preserves, in the middle is the leftover jam from our vacation spot (yes, we travel with condiments!), and on the right is the jar of homemade jam that David opened when we got back. And now we have too many. I guess that really puts us in a jam! Oh, I slay me.
Let me say right here that I believe yellow mustard is an abomination. Growing up, I thought it was something that only Gentiles ate (that is, when they weren't putting mayo on their baloney sandwiches, Lord help them). Well, my punishment for marrying outside the faith is to have children who not only tolerate this weak imitation of real mustard, but who actually prefer it. For the record, I threw it out after the photo shoot. It was a "Do the Right Thing" sort of moment, you know? Another day I will have to discuss just how much I hate squeeze bottles. Stay tuned!
There are also the applesauce jars, but those already got a post all their own. In fact, I think they're getting a little swelled up from all the attention (or perhaps that's just fermentation). So we'll just ignore them for the time being. That's what I do best, anyway...