Dough for My Bread

It occurs every Saturday morning.

As I stand before my open fridge, tossing out non-eaten and soon-to-be expired perishables accumulated during the week, I can't help but calculate the money I'm literally throwing away. We've two humans and three cats living in this house, so it's not like I have to buy an exorbitant amount of groceries each week.  Nonetheless, my tendency to graze and Mr. Newman's tendency to do whatever the hell he wants food-wise results in a sad sack full of wilted vegetables and dodgy meats and cheeses.  It vexes me greatly, and the Mr. laughs at me, which vexes me even more.  Yet I never complain, until it's time to come up with a topic for my little scribblings.

Yes, I am frugal.  Yes, I realize others who are less fortunate would gladly come over and partake each week of the leftovers, but I don't want a bunch of strangers in my house, so I don't issue any invitations.  Frugal with money, frugal with generosity - that pretty much sums up my current existence.

I find, too, that the older I get, the more this frugality rears it's cheap ugly head.  I pride myself on never paying full price for clothing, books, and household items.  I readily admit to removing a beautiful plant stand a neighbor placed beside my dumpster because I needed one for the patio.  And sure, I'll even confess to hoarding pennies in an old Folgers coffee can in the event that our whole system shuts down due to the zombie apocalypse or total government mismanagement (which could very likely be one and the same).

I will not, however, dumpster dive. Taking something beside the dumpster is one thing; actually going into the dumpster is quite another.  I watched a documentary about people who get their groceries straight from the bin.  These people looked unhealthy.  And dirty.  And weird.  I'm weird enough - I don't need to egg it on even more.

I also refuse to buy in bulk.  I don't have the space to store five years worth of diapers.  I also don't have a baby.  This brings me to the extreme couponers:  if you're not going to use it, why purchase it?  I know a bald extreme couponer who has a hundred bottles of shampoo sitting atop a shelf in his garage.  His sole companion is a hairless cat.  'I had a coupon,' remains his only explanation for it.

I will, however, own the fact that I don't know everything (just most things):  the super-jumbo package of croissants Mr. Newman brought home the other day did not go to waste as I'd predicted. If I had a dime for every croissant I've thrown away recently, I'd have several dimes.  He assured me they would not wind up in the garbage, and just to make sure they wouldn't I ate the last one this morning.  Don't tell him.

I will also acknowledge that sometimes trash really is trash.  Unlike some people I know, I won't attempt to fashion bracelets out of toilet tissue cardboard nor will I wear a lampshade as a hat. 

I actually did wear a lampshade once in my early twenties, but it had nothing to do with frugality and everything to do with an outrageous party thrown by a friend of a friend.

Come to think of it, it really was a cute lampshade. It totally brought out my eyes.

But I digress....

In my opinion, waste is wrong.  Wasted food, wasted time, wasted talent, wasted youth - if we utilize the ingredients we already have, perhaps we'd all be a bit richer, and not necessarily in monetary terms.

That's Amore

They resembled those couples you see on TV commercials, the ones that promote life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness all thanks to a little pill.  Should your quest for life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness last longer than four hours, you should seek medical help immediately.  Of course, I had no choice but to take an immediate dislike to them.

It happened at a restaurant that Mr. Newman and I enjoy on a regular basis.  It promotes a special each week called ‘Amore Monday’ – three courses at incredibly discounted prices.  Our couple in question, however, took the term literally, for such displays of PDA I hadn’t seen since I cancelled our Cinemax subscription years ago.

They sat on the same side of the booth, and had she’d been any closer to him, she would have been behind him.  Roaming hands, repeated kisses – it was quite a show, but not in a good way.  I (almost) couldn’t finish my manicotti, and you can forget about me focusing on any sort of dinner conversation with my better half.  It had been a while since we’d been to dinner and a show, and even though it was a horror show, we couldn’t wait for the next act.

He whispered something in her ear, and she chuckled in between gulps of beer that she swigged straight out of the bottle.  Okay, so maybe they weren’t exact replicas of the happy couples in those commercials.

Their check arrived and a dispute with their waiter followed.  Perhaps what they ordered hadn’t actually been part of the ‘Amore Monday’ special.  Perhaps she only drank four beers but was charged for five.  Or maybe the restaurant charged them a ‘Get a Room Because You’re Grossing Out the Other Patrons Fee’ that’s not noted on the menu. 

I don’t know how the disagreement was settled because dessert arrived, and this place makes a butter cake that you would not believe, Gentle Reader.  It’s a pretty presentation, too, or it was until Mr. Newman helped himself to a bite, knocked it on its side, and smeared the fruit topping all over the plate. 

Anyway, by the time I’d regained my composure over blatant cake abuse, the couple had left.  I’m assuming together, but you never know about these things now, do you?

On the drive home, I pondered their story.  Could they have been celebrating an anniversary?  Could they have rekindled a spark that had disappeared for a while?  Were they bonding over a happy or tragic situation? 

My guess, though, is that they were simply hammered.

I Have a Kitchen Because It Came With the House

I don’t give a damn about broccoli, and I feel the same way about certain spatulas.  Only chumps sift flour, and if you think I’m spending one precious moment of my time carving rosebuds out of radishes, you’re setting yourself up for a lifetime of hurt.

Don’t get me wrong, Sweeties, for I do enjoy spending time in my kitchen, especially when I’m not cooking.  Truthfully though, I do like preparing meals, particularly if they’re a) relatively healthy, and b) extremely easy.  I used to tell everyone (and by everyone, I mean me, myself, and I) that I simply didn’t have time to learn all the fancy-schmancy nuances that come along with creating a stunning and satisfying meal.  That’s a lie, however, and I’ll own it.  I’ve got time, but I simply prefer to spend it in other ways (napping, devising effective-but-humane devices for warding off squirrels, etc.)

 

Mr. Newman and I have been on a juicing/smoothie kick lately.  Like a fine meatloaf, you can put anything in a smoothie and it will turn out okay.  The Mister is a little more particular than I, however.    My ‘Green Goodness’ concoction was met with a look of disgust I hope to never witness again, along with an inquiry about the deal I struck with the yard man following a full day of mowing.  Mr. Newman will rue the day he mocked my super food efforts, once he notices my line-free face, svelte figure, and shiny hair.  My energy shall be boundless, too.  At least that’s what the dirty hippie who gave me the recipe promised. 

Many evenings we work, which doesn’t allow us the opportunity to sit down together and enjoy a full meal.  Juicing is a great way to get that end-of-the-day, much-needed sustenance.  Have you ever tried to suck a sandwich through a straw?  It can’t be done.  Liquid meals are fast, and there isn’t much clean-up afterward.

I sometimes think society puts too much emphasis on food.  I can always find something to eat – just ask my neighbor, whose oranges mysteriously disappear from her tree on a regular basis.  I commend those who can whip up a seven-course meal at the drop of the hat.  I wish I had that sort of enthusiasm, but I don’t.   No one in my house is starving, so I suppose that it’s alright.

 

 

 

Green Goodness Smoothie:

½ cucumber

2 stalks celery

4 leaves of Kale

Parsley (to taste)

Lemon Juice (to taste)

One small apple

Blend until smooth (duh)