October 3, 2015
Today, it rains. It rained before I rose this morning, it is raining as I write these words, and it will rain long after I’ve retired for the night. Or so the weather people told me as I sipped my tea this morning, flipping through the channels in hopes that maybe someone would say otherwise. No luck, though. It was rain yesterday, will be rain again tomorrow. So far I have but one primary observation of this new month of October: it rains. With talk of hurricanes and flooding about, we (the denizens of the mid-Atlantic region), are being gently urged to stay in our homes, avoid driving in certain areas unless completely necessary, and to go ahead and stock up on the essentials at the store, just in case. The essentials.
What exactly are my essentials? Do I need to go get more? My impulses were telling me that yes, yes I need to go get more food. I wondered these things, as I watched Easton cram fistfuls of Cheerios into his mouth as fast as his chubby fingers would allow. He gave me a big, proud grin and offered a little pigeon-like giggle. Cheerios would most definitely make his short list of essentials, but what about mine? I wandered into the kitchen and began surveying the contents of both fridge and pantry. Amidst the boxes, bags, and cans I saw a lot of things that I’d been meaning to use for ages as well as several partially-used items that would probably never be finished. My cabinet doors weren’t even closing all the way, they were so crammed with food. This isn’t good … this isn’t good at all. Lucas is always challenging me to just cook with what I have on hand, and I’ve always got the best of intentions to do so, but I grocery shop like I’m a kid in a candy store, ogling the food and fantasizing about the myriad ways in which I can use it. On any given shopping trip you can usually find me throwing things into the cart, my impulsive moves based purely on looks and dreams and recipes that I might be able to make at some point. So alas, there I stood, gawking sheepishly at the overabundance in shame and embarrassment. Continue reading