Back Slowly Away From The Gladware, Ma'am, With Your Hands Up

Welcome to a new feature - the Wednesday Fridge Follies! Each Wednesday I clean out my refrigerator (and I use clean in the loosest sense of the term here) and take a picture of everything I end up throwing away. This exercise in public humiliation should make me take a good hard look at the amount of waste in our household and cause me to reevaluate our food storage habits, resulting in a smaller carbon footprint for our family and more food for others to eat.

Or, it could just be an exercise in public humiliation, right? So, let's get on with it:

What's in SuburbanCorrespondent's fridge? (with apologies to Holly's fruitbowl)

Not too bad this week, actually. Here we have numerous gladware containers, no fewer than 2 of them containing past-their-prime baby carrots. When I open a bag of baby carrots, I don't want the unused ones to dry up in an opened bag in the fridge. So, smart housewife that I am, I store the remaining carrots in a gladware container full of water, which keeps 'em crisp - a nifty trick I learned while working food service in college. (See, MadMad? That college degree wasn't wasted.)

Where was I? So, now, instead of drying up, the baby carrots sort of rot in the water because, the next time I need some baby carrots, I can't find the container in my mess of a refrigerator and open up a new bag instead.

The container next to the carrots contains some cut-up scallions that I thriftily saved (in theory, at least) for another meal. At least they made it to the cutting-up stage, unlike their sorry-looking brethren above them. That's 2 bunches of scallions I unearthed from the meat drawer, folks. Looks like I had something yummy planned! Sure wish I knew what it was.

[David, in a fit of compassion, rescued these 2 bunches, chopped their wilted tops off, and replanted the bulbs outside on our deck. 3 cheers for David!]

Moving on....to the left of the carrots is a glass dish half-full (or you can call it half-empty if you like) of homemade sloppy joes. These are a family favorite, so I cannot figure out why there were any leftovers (unless, of course, this particular container was pushed to the back of my black hole of an icebox and wasn't recovered in time). Atop the sloppy joes is a (you guessed it) gladware container full of peas and rice. I don't even remember what meal this was from. Out it goes!

To the left of the sloppy joes are 2 containers of cream cheese. This is curious, as we generally don't allow open containers of dairy products in our refrigerator (due to Theo's milk allergy). We must have treated the kids to bagels and thought the leftover cream cheese was too good to waste (at least, not without letting it go green in our refrigerator first). Yuk. I don't remember when we had bagels, either.

Peeking out from behind the cream cheese is a jar of homemade Italian salad dressing that we made when I had some guests over, which was...let's see....the 4th of July! 3 weeks being the statute of limitations of abandoned homemade dressing (says me), it's time for us to bid arrivederci to this particular item. Besides, we have another jar of it in the fridge. I guess I made too much.

See that big metal bowl behind the scallions? It is full of peach skins. We made peach cobbler yesterday and the skins we peeled off tasted so good that we saved them. Because we would feel bad tossing something that tastes good. So we waited until today, when they all turned brown....

There's an interesting story behind that metal bowl. You see, I spent years and years picking up used Tupperware from yard sales and thrift stores; but what I really hoped to find were some stainless steel bowls complete with storage lids. They were the holy grail of my bargain-shopping for over a decade until, finally, a couple of years ago, I admitted defeat. I forked over Larry's hard-earned money for a brand-new set of 3 bowls with lids.

I loved those bowls. I admired their shininess, their usefulness (good for cooking and storage!), and the way they nested so space-savingly in my cupboard. Our relationship was, of course, too good to last. Only 2 months into it the lid for the largest bowl (pictured) went missing. Gone - just like that, leaving a hole in my heart that couldn't be filled. I never found it. Not even when we moved last year and I was sure it would turn up, under the stove or behind the refrigerator.

And now, now... the lid to the smallest bowl is gone, also. Off to join its brother, I suppose, wherever plastic storage lids do go, leaving their owners bereft and hopeless and wrestling with recalcitrant saran wrap.

But I digress. It's time to stop mourning and move on. Behind all the food is a yellow plate with 1/2 an egg sandwich that Susie left over at lunch. What do you say, folks? Should I wrap it in foil and pretend that someone is going to eat it later and then suffer the embarrassment of taking a picture of it one week from now? Or should I just toss it now?

As a parting note, I would like to point to my culinary accomplishment of the week. It's not all rotting food and moldy veggies here, folks. Sometimes something good happens in my kitchen. And this week, it was this stuff to the right: 8 jars of homemade peach jam (well, 4 jars of jam and 4 jars of not-quite-jelled peach something-or-other) and 4 quarts of homemade tomato sauce (plus 1/2 a quart which is...um....somewhere in my refrigerator).

Fabulous Prizes!

I am just full of blogosphere news today. Ready? Here goes.

Firstly, I am proud to announce that, at the urging of Manic Mommy and with the added incentive of the prizes she is offering, I donated blood today for the first time in my life. And it didn't even hurt. And I got out of the house for 2 hours without the kids for a legitimate reason (as opposed to just wandering around Target or the local bookstore). If you'd like to know more about Manic Mommy and her blood donor drive (and trust me, she is truly obsessed about this cause) check out her blog. Manic Mommy, a picture of my bandaged arm is coming your way (as soon as I figure out how to do that).

Secondly, I have come into my 15 minutes of fame; I am the Housewife of the Week over at MommaSaid.net. All I had to do to win was to tell MommaSaid why my week was the worst ever. As anyone who follows this blog knows, I am an expert at whining; and now I have tangible proof. The write-up for the award (hee, hee, I won something) was done by the website's owner Jen Singer, who showed remarkable perspicacity and taste by selecting me as this week's winner. Ahem. (Was that good, Jen?) I won a book about big families called Table For Eight: Raising a Large Family in a Small Family World (by Megan Francis). Gosh, I love free stuff.

But enough about me....I'd like to thank all of you who have supported and encouraged me on my long, slow climb to the top. I will not forget those of you who knew me before I became Housewife of the Week. Fame will rest gracefully on these shoulders.

Maybe.

Larry had the day off today; so he spent his time making sure that I would be confused trying to navigate my way around the new computer. He set up many different accounts, some with parental blocks, all with special passwords. And a very special account all for himself, because he is the Administrator. I do believe that he is drunk on power. I also believe he was trying to block the entire blogosphere, so that his wife would stop talking about people she doesn't know as if she had actually met them. This nefarious plan of his failed, however - thank goodness.

He calls y'all my imaginary friends. And he always looks worried when he says it.

Whew - back tomorrow with our regularly scheduled programming (kids, and vomit, and mice, of course).

Near Death Experiences and A Giveaway!

Hi! I cleaned my toilet 4 times last night! Another 6 times this morning! I am a toilet-cleaning goddess!

That's what happens, you know, when you have the stomach virus from hell that keeps coming back. Friday, Sunday, and again today! New and improved! In between toilet cleanings, I lay curled up on the couch in a fetal position. And decided that I was suffering from nothing less than end stage colon cancer. Isn't that fun? My only hope was to get well enough to go to the endodontist for my root canal appointment at 12:30. Why I was bothering to take care of my teeth when I was obviously not long for this world is beyond me.

So it wasn't shaping up to be a great day.

But now it is almost dinner time, my stomach seems to have jelled back into one solid mass, and the root canal didn't hurt! I am the world's biggest dental wimp, so that is saying a lot. Of course, the novocaine hasn't totally worn off yet. But have no fear - I have some prescription codeine tablets just in case. Because I cannot afford to lose another night's sleep.

Larry hasn't even called to ask how I am. He's in such trouble.

Since I was spending so much time in the bathroom, I grabbed a book from the stack on my nightstand to read in there. It just so happened that it was Jen Singer's You're A Good Mom. Jen is the blogger behind MommaSaid.net, where, if you will recall, I won the (ahem) prestigious Housewife of the Week award last December. So, naturally, I like Jen. And when she sent me her new book (complete with a very cute promo package) over a month ago, I had every intention of reading it right away and telling people about it (because I'm easy like that).

Well, here we are, many weeks later, and the only reason I didn't finish the book sooner was because I was too busy blogging. Also, I couldn't find the book for a while. And...and...the dog ate it. Anyway, I finished it last night; and, um, Jen? I don't really know how to review a book. I'll just give it the old college try, all right?

Essentially, it is a humorous book about "14 Secrets to Finding Happiness Between Super Mom and Slacker Mom." (I stole that from the cover.) Jen writes about what I and many other moms have discovered - good enough is good enough. Don't center your whole life on the kids. Don't overload them with activities. You don't have to amuse them all the time.

Only, she says it way funnier.

I particularly enjoyed her diatribe against specialized kid soccer leagues and extended soccer schedules. You see, I think soccer should be played in a local league for 8 weeks and no more, fall and maybe spring. Because I am sort of lazy about getting my kids to these things and I don't like kids' activities taking over our lives. But, where I live (and, apparently, where Jen lives, too) the season can stretch into overtime (I had a friend whose son was playing on Thanksgiving Day) and parents travel all over the place to allow their kids to play in a "better" league. I hate that. But, then, I know nothing about sports. Jen, however, lends credibility to my anti-elite-soccer stance; she actually played college soccer and coaches in her local kid leagues. And she feels the same way I do! So there! You can read all about it in her chapter titled, "Don't Let the Youth Sports Cartel Run Your Life."

Thank you, Jen. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you.

This is a good book for moms with kids no older than 12. Because, if you haven't figured out this stuff by then, you probably are the Super Mom type she warns us about. I'm thinking I would like to give this book away to one lucky commenter; I just have to figure out how to mail it without y'all figuring out where I live. (Wow! I'm doing a giveaway! Just like the real bloggers!)

So comment on this post and let me know if you would like to be entered in the contest. I don't know how to do those random number generator thingies, so I will probably have one of the kids pick a name out of a hat. We'll try to be fair, I promise.

Stinkbugs And Mousies And Ants, Oh My!

Well! That purchase of a brand-spanking-new Toyota minivan last year isn't looking so smart anymore, is it? You know, nothing adds a certain frisson to the driving experience so much as wondering if your car is going to stop when you want it to. Sort of Russian Roulette on the Road, you know?

It's still a great car to knit in, though. And what else matters?

*****************

I know you folks haven't heard a lot from me on the mouse front lately; but fear not, that isn't because mice no longer stop by around here. Oh, no, our house remains a popular vacation spot for any rodents looking to come in out of the wet and the cold. Of course, it hasn't helped that Larry decided to provide them with a continental breakfast special by storing the bird seed inside the house. PETA would have been proud of him.

Dealing with these pests over so many years has toughened me somewhat; I no longer scream and threaten arson the minute I discover mouse droppings in my kitchen cabinets; and my online research on purchasing flamethrowers has also dropped off considerably. Last night, however, tested my new-found stoicism; I discovered mouse droppings in the corner of our main bathroom. You know, the bathroom near the bedrooms, where we are supposed to sleep peacefully at night, without fear that hungry rodents will gnaw our faces off?

Now there's a pretty thought, no? Welcome to my creature-phobic mind. It's a freakin' nightmare in here.

I want a little credit for not immediately torching the house (after evacuating the children, of course). I didn't even wake Larry from a sound slumber to issue ultimatums involving exterminators and divorce lawyers. I'd like to think that, after 19 years of marriage and 13 years of homeowning, I've developed a bit of maturity in these matters.

Not enough maturity, of course, to prevent my entertaining the idea of leaving the mouse droppings on his toothbrush, of course. Just as a sort of statement, you know? A wake-up call, as it were...the desperate cry of a beleaguered housewife losing her fight with the grosser parts of the animal kingdom. It's not just the mice, you know; it's the stinkbugs, and the sugar ants, and the centipedes. It's all of them together. They're out to get me, I can tell.



[Larry just read this and said, "You forgot to tell them about the dead mouse I found floating in the tub of water in the laundry room last week." Yes, maybe because he never told me about it. Can you blame him?]

Love Story

I'm in love.

Larry and I went to BestBuy this morning on our date (yes, I know - the romance is just overwhelming): he needed to check out prices on computers (don't ask) and I was ogling flattop stoves, because last week I decided that my life is too short to spend cleaning burner drip pans.

On my way back to the computer area, I saw it. My refrigerator. The one I'm destined for. The one that will solve all my cold storage problems.

Now, I'm not some young slip of a housewife, unaware of the ways of the world and easily charmed by anything with a plug and a frostfree interior. Over the years I have become inured to the charms of shiny new appliances, for I have learned the truth: give them a month in my house, and they look as though they are ready for the dump. But still...one look inside this beauty, at its capacious door storage, its unsullied crispers, its pull-out bottom freezer...and I was smitten.

Unfortunately, one glance at its price tag destroyed our budding relationship (and it didn't help that Larry laughed at my infatuation). This love, apparently, was doomed to be unrequited.

Fire Prevention and Kickball Musings

Today I cleaned my oven before it caught fire. I've never done that before. An ounce of prevention, you know....

At Target today we bought a kickball. Again. I believe that makes 10 thousand kickballs we have purchased there. I also bought one of those little pumps that adds air to the kickball so that you don't have to go out and buy a new ball all the time. I think it's our tenth pump. I have no idea where all the other kickballs and ball pumps are. The balls must disintegrate after a certain amount of time (one and a half days, say). And then the pump needles are programmed to disappear, so you can't use the pump on the new kickball which manages to deflate itself on the ride home from the store.

This evening I attempted to have the kitchen clean, dinner on the table, and children scrubbed and smiling before Larry's return from his trip (occasionally I start channeling my inner 50's housewife, only without the cute dress and apron) - but the gods were against me. Susie was screaming (no nap), the kitchen was trashed, and assorted young ones were whining about all and sundry. Larry, to his credit, acted glad to be home anyway; and he was able to maintain his cheery facade until Brian and Rachel reported a major ant invasion in the family room. The evening sort of deteriorated from there. So I don't think I succeeded in convincing Larry that he doesn't want to leave his family for yet another management retreat next week. That's 3 management retreats so far this year; but, hey, who's counting? Not me - I like being left to fend for myself.

Is "sundry" a word? It looks funny.