Monday, May 12, 2014
In which I draw the line.
Okay, we've made it thus far and I'm feeling pretty good about what's left in the pantry and freezer. Plenty of beans, meat, rice, flour, noodles, canned fruit and chocolate. More meat than we can possibly go through in the next couple of weeks and the hens started laying again. Lettuce is growing the garden, the peas are up and trellising and the arugula is looking like it might want me to eat it by the end of this week. Or the beginning of next. Maybe. There are frozen vegetables and the magical butter shelf is still hard at work, delivering delicious golden fat to my toast every morning. There are spare jars of peanut butter and even some apple butter and an unopened jar of salsa. Milk continues to be delivered for the granola, tea is made from the bazillion spare bags in the spice cupboard (what on earth made me think that I needed to store eight boxes of Celestial Seasons herbal tea for the end of time, I wonder...). Still, there are some challenges.
Lunches rank high on the list of those challenges. One child is in school and needs to take a lunch. Every day. On bread, which needs to be made the night before. One cannot send leftovers to school where there is little to no capability for reheating and/or there is a large "EW!" factor on the part of the eater and his lunch table buddies. This is bothersome when the cheese drawer is down to a skinny brick of Monterey Jack, half a wedge of Pecorino Romano and some spreadable herbed goat cheese. Peanut butter and raspberry jam every day for two weeks with a container of canned pineapple may not be so palatable for my lunch-taker. I'm working on alternatives but am not hopeful. Egg salad is tricky because it's kinda smelly. I think I will, honest to God, cook a ham so we have ham for sandwiches and ham salad and so on. That might go far to fill the belly of the sandwich beast. More on that later...
The other issue that I have and which may drive me to drastic measures like entering a grocery store is that we ran out of coffee. Yesterday was the last of it. Rather, it could have lasted until Tuesday but my husband drank it. I made the last pot yesterday morning and poured two cups for us. I then hid the remaining cups in a pre-heated thermos that is wrapped in it's own personal flannel jacket. This jacket was made especially for the thermos by my husband. I tucked it back behind some containers on a tray that lives next to the warm refrigerator. I was convinced that it would provide us with two cups each until Tuesday and then I would book a flight to Hawaii where I would harvest the coffee myself, thus ensuring that I would not have to enter a Hannaford or Price Chopper this month. This was not meant to be.
Last night I picked up the thermos to reassure myself of its fullness and my impending morning caffeination and...it was empty. EMPTY!! I turned and looked at my husband, aghast. "Where is the coffee?!" I sputtered. "Uh, I drank it," he said. "WHAT? WHY?" I said. "Because it was there." End of story. End of coffee. Thank God for tea.