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Fresh Start

It’s the night before trash day.  That means it’s time to go through the fridge.

I love this task.  It’s my own version of food rescue.  Not because I typically find unidentifiable objects – but more because I find leftovers that got pushed to the back and will narrowly miss the garbage can.

There is usually the squishy peach or the nearly moldy strawberries.  Both of these items can be salvaged.  Cut off the bad (if moldy) and keep all the squishy. Throw in a container into the freezer and I’m going to save on next week’s smoothie ingredients.

Saving almost gone fruits

Fruit Smoothie

There is typically a leftover protein – anything from a random pork chop (less than 5 days old – health rule!) or even boiled eggs – that I can turn into tomorrow’s lunch.

And my favorite part is quite possibly throwing out last week’s mistakes.  Those leftover cheese tortellini that no one liked – trash.  The end of the loaves of bread – now moldy – feed the ducks out back.  The two leftover pancakes that no one ever ate – garbage.

It’s a fresh start.  It’s making right the past week’s wrongs.  It’s the impetous to start a grocery list for the following week.  A chance to reward the kid who complained the least this week about meals – ‘hey, what would you like next week for dinner one night’.

Here’s what I’ve learned: Every week brings a fresh start.

 

 

 
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Posted by on September 27, 2012 in Uncategorized

 

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Support Our Troops

I was sharing with my husband my frustration of the constant trips to the grocery store.  As school has resumed, I find myself returning to a grocery store every four days.  Honestly, four days is the LONGEST that I can go without a trip for groceries.

We are constantly out of something.  Right now it is milk.

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Yesterday it was bread.

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And we are running low on fresh fruits and vegetables — it was slim pickings for packed lunches this morning.

But, really, how could that be.  I was just there.  Went in for bread and spent $40 and I’m still out of food.

It is a constant battle.

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My husband is retired Army.  He spent 20 years as a supply officer in the Army National Guard.  He has shared with me that he always enjoyed his position because is was never just an exercise.  Infantry – they are exercising or practicing what they would do in combat.  But supply – Food, Fuel and Ammunition – his responsibilities were never practice.  The soldiers weren’t pretending to eat or drive vehicles.  And they might be using blanks, but they still needed rounds of ammunition for their exercises.

So today, when I was venting my frustration, he shared a more detailed story.  When he was deployed to Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans, they were on a 3-day ration cycle.  Every three days, he sent soldiers to the main supply warehouse to get 3 days worth of rations.  He recalled losing track of what day or date it was during his deployment.  Time was measured by ‘day of rations’ — today is Day 3 of rations.

And I guess that is how I feel.  You may remember my post from summer when I only knew what day it was because we were eating waffles – and we eat waffles on Wednesdays.  So, it must be Wednesday. I guess yesterday at our household was Day 4 of Rations.  Today I return to the grocery to gather rations for the next four days for my troops.

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What Have I Learned: I’m a supply officer – I feed the troops!

 
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Posted by on August 8, 2012 in Uncategorized

 

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The next best thing since sliced bread

I still remember the weekend I met my future in-laws.  My husband and I were dating and I was traveling to his hometown with him for the weekend.  We were making the trip there because I had a college friend having her wedding shower (my college friends being from his hometown and me not meeting him at college – that’s another blog post).

His dad, my future father-in-law, had made homemade bread.  It was really good.  The kind of really good that on the drive to their house the second time I asked “do you think your dad will have homemade bread again?”  

And over the next couple of years I continued to ask that same question.  I guess I’m a slow learner.  This wasn’t a phase of his father’s where one day we would visit and *gasp* we would be served regular store-bought sliced bread.  

His father bakes bread.  He doesn’t sell it but he does SHARE it.

This story began back in 1997 and lucky for me, 15 years later there is still homemade bread.  After we had children, the kids took to calling it Grandpa Seed bread.  

My 12 year old daughter is quite the cook.  She has shown an interest in Grandpa Seed bread a few times, but she’s just now getting old enough to really be able to manage it on her own.  She is feeding the starter, baking the bread and now, most importantly, she’s sharing the bread.

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At mass this past weekend, it was announced that before Holy Thursday mass there would be a soup and bread dinner for anyone who would like to attend.  She asked on the car ride home if she could make bread to donate for the meal.  I assumed the answer would be yes, checked with the coordinator, and was thrilled when the answer was both a  yes and ‘wow, that’s exciting!’

What have I learned: there is something better than sliced bread: Grandpa Seed bread.  A tradition handed down from one generation to the next and SHARED with those you love the most.

 

 

 
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Posted by on April 5, 2012 in Uncategorized

 

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