It's been a crazy month. Today is the first day in weeks that I am home with no quests and no plans. Last night I finally finished unpacking from our trip. I haven't been to the grocery store since the beginning of November. I'm going to go today. It'll cost me a small fortune to re-stock.
I was going to go yesterday but I wound up having to work all day and came home with a wicked headache. When it was time to make dinner, I was a little concerned because I didn't have a lot to work with. I thought this would be an excellent time to eat up what was left in the house.
I had 1/2 a dozen eggs, 4 slices of cheese, some clementines, 1 pear, 4 frozen pancakes, 1 frozen chocolate chip waffle. I decided that I would make breakfast for dinner. I scrambled some eggs, heated up the pancakes, peeled the clementines, cut the waffle into fourths and threw a random slice of cheese on there for calcium. I used the last packet of Crystal Light pink lemonade, poured the drinks and laid the plates on the table. Not the healthiest dinner, or the fanciest, but we had some of the food groups represented. It was adequate.
I called the kids down to eat. They sat down at the table and looked at their plates.
You have to remember that for the past 3 weeks we have either been on a cruise ship or with family celebrating Thanksgiving. They have been eating filet, shrimp, pizza, fresh baked cookies, turkey and mashed potato. They basically have been living the good life. The dinner in front of them was a reminder that we are back to our middle class living.
My youngest said, "What is this?" My oldest said, "Gross, mom. You need to go to the grocery store." Thank you, Captain Obvious. "This would be a feast to a lot of kids in the world. Now be grateful and eat your dinner." They ate their dinner and didn't say another word because I gave them *that* look. The look that said, if you keep busting my balls - I won't buy you anything for Christmas.
Growing up, my parents were beast mode at clearing out the cabinets. My dad would take everything in the house and make stew of leftover whatever. We'd have 2 hot dogs left and he'd chop them up, throw them in with a big can of baked beans that was collecting dust in the back of the cabinet, pour in the potato chip crumbs from the almost empty bag that one of us a**hole kids put back, throw the last slice of American cheese in there. "It's like a hash," he'd say. He would eat it like it actually tasted good.
You never complained that there was no food in the house. "Dad, there is nothing to eat!" He would look at you seriously and say, "We have ketchup, mayo, and mustard in the fridge. Make a condiment sandwich."
Good times.
In other news, our elf made an appearance after Thanksgiving. We have been home for 2 nights and I have forgotten to move him approximately 2 times. Every morning, it's been the race downstairs to put him somewhere before my 9 year old comes down.
I am really limited by what I can do with the elf because I have to keep him up high or the dog will eat him. I have half a mind to let her. That damn dog will eat anything. She chewed the corner of my daughter's passport the other day. What a b**ch. It runs in the family.
Well, I better get off my ass and to the grocery store before there is a mutiny. All we have left to eat is condiment sandwiches.
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