Today was so good – the kind of fall day I dream about. It was cool enough for us to open up the house and not have it fill with rolling heat.
Last night we went out searching for caramel apples (thanks, mom, for the picture that made us both totally crave them!). Apparently this city does not know that it is fall and does not go crazy with apples and cider and such (Omaha certainly does and Syracuse too I guess, since Allison was telling me a story today and casually says something like “yeah, after I went apple picking…” where as in Dallas I might say something like, “after I got cut off by a maniac on 75”. But I digress). So, we didn’t find caramel apples.
We did however find a TCBY and enjoyed some delicious fall frozen yogurt flavors — chocolate and vanilla. MMMmmm. Nothing says fall like some frozen yogurt! Then we rented Kingdom of Heaven. Have you seen this movie? Please, if you haven’t, do not rent it. Ridley Scott should not receive one more dollar for making this film. It is so bad. Too bad to even really critique. Let me just say that the story had amazing potential but lacked writing, directing, editing and acting. Yep, that about covers it. Please, please remove it from your NetFlicks cue.
We had the movie up pretty loud and didn’t hear what our neighbor told us about today. Last night about 10pm Stacy, Kate and Michael all heard a woman yell at the top of her lungs “Help me!” and looked out their respective front doors. They didn’t hear anything other than that and didn’t really know what to do. Stacy’s husband said they should’ve called the cops and we agreed. But, we didn’t hear it. We were too busy watching a Orlando Bloom live in Jerusalem as a Crusader and want to be friends with Muslims. It’s not that we are pro-Crusades, because we are for sure not, but the crazy men who marched to “the Holy Land” oh so many years ago weren’t there to make friends with Muslims. They had some pretty screwed up theology and thought that God backed a Christian-jihad. Completely outside of New Testament teaching, but, of course, they didn’t know what the New Testament said because most of them were illiterate and even if they could read Latin, they’d have a pretty tough time getting their hands on a copy of New Testament books, since the Catholic church was completely against the people reading for themselves. Now that I’ve been flagged by the Dept of Homeland Security for having the word ‘jihad’ in my blog, and by the Catholic church for dissing on them too, I think I’ll move on.
To the standoff —
If you know me well, you know that I like things clean. I’m anal about things I should overlook – things most people cannot see or do not feel the need to adjust. But in one area I am disgusting. I will procrastinate cleaning this one thing forEVER. Not because I don’t want it to be clean, mind you. I just want someone else to clean it. Ahem. I’m pretty sure I got this from my mom. Yes, mom, I blame you. You and I share this malady, but I doubt it’s genetic so, in true public service announcement form — I learned it from watching you! (Sorry for the blame, but you didn’t screw me up in real ways, so this is the worst it gets)
Leftovers.in.the.fridge.
I leave them there. Rotting. Molding. Stinking to high heaven in plastic containers that keep all the stink inside of them. I know that eventually I’m going to have to open up that stinky thing and throw all of the mold and old food into a garbage bag while I breathe only through my mouth to avoid retching. Allison pointed out that there is a happy medium between the decaying food that raccoons won’t eat and the day I first stuck it in the fridge, but I swear I cannot figure out that timing. I just know that one day, I’ll open that door and realize that the fruit I cut up a few weeks back is still in a gladware container but it’s now found it’s way behind the bread and condiments because it knows it’s shame. And something inside me freezes. I can’t touch the outside of that container much less open it up and through away the fuzzy fruit. And then I notice other things lurking back there too…the tiny bit of tuna casserole I just couldn’t pitch the night I made it, the taco meat that we didn’t eat in time, the yellow squash from the farmer’s market and it’s friend’s the jalapenos. “Oh no” ragged breathing “Oh no” panicked feelings “Oh no” heart racing “Oh no” SHUT THE FRIDGE!!! IGNORE IT! IT WILL GO AWAY!
and i do. I shut it and I walk away.
People, there was a take out box in there from September 12th today!
But not now. Today I won. I’d finally starved them out. They’d begun eating their own children and I knew it was time. I breathed through my mouth. I used my big spatula. I threw two Target sacks into the dumpster and I only lost two gladware containers in the fight. Tupperware always wins, by the way. But the gladware? It was made to be pitched. So, now our fridge is clean and pretty and it currently holds a beautiful trifle (Tami Z’s recipe – Thanks Tami!!!) that I’ll serve up tomorrow for our small group. Tonight I can rest well. The standoff has ended.
(Of course, tomorrow it all begins again. The making food. The left overs. The lack of desire to eat the left overs. The making of new food. The shoving to the back. It’s a vicious cycle, but I’m sure I’ll win again.)
THANK GOODNESS I thought I was the only one who had this phobia of cleaning the refrigerator…not the refrigerator itself, just the rotting contents. Hang in there and keep tossing that Gladware! (been there, done that!)