I just sat around after I got home from work. Emme judged me with her judge-y eyes.
Trust me. When she wasn’t sleeping, she was really shooting me a look.
At least I’m not sitting on a screwdriver, cat. (I do wish I were sipping one, though.)
by Lauren 4 Comments
by Lauren 3 Comments
So, this morning I put a bunch of boneless, skinless chicken thighs in my smaller crockpot, set it to low (because now I know that turning the heat on is important) and let it cook way, way too long. Eleven hours is too long. When I dished some up I warned Lloyd that it was dry and gross.
Lloyd: “How could it be dry? It was cooking in all that juice.”
Me: “That juice used to be in the chicken.”
We choked down supper, but I cannot eat another bite of that for another meal. The plan? Pulverize it with the mixer, then feed it to the cats instead of their canned stuff for a while. Lloyd is mad that they’re going to get People Food, but it’s chicken, for cryin’ out loud! I’m pretty sure that’s 20% of what’s in the can of chicken cat food!
by Lauren 4 Comments
This poorly-told story is a two parter.
Part one: We have a lot of plastic jugs in the basement that cause me angst. The litter inside was cheap, but the wasteful plastic has a heavy cost. (*cough* heavy handed *cough* tree hugger) On Sunday I took one of them to Lincoln to see if any of the pet stores sold litter in bulk. They do! They sold two sizes to refill: 16 pounds or 30 pounds. I showed the cashier my non-standard container and asked if I could fill it. She hemmed and hawed and I said, “If it’s between 16 and 30, I’ll pay for the 30.” She agreed.
I filled up my jug and then stood for twenty years in the checkout line. The people ahead of me were buying a bunch of stuff for their adorable puppy and it involved coupons and rebates and took a really long time. The girl I spoke to originally was gone, and the new girl was flustered from all the the puppy paraphernalia, and then by my non-standard jug. She weighed it and it was 22 pounds. Teenage Manager Boy came over and told her to punch in a code (which she did wrong three times) and finally she rung up my total…… for 16 pounds. I just thanked her and left.
And then. The guilt.
Part two: The Early Dark has come, and Sunday night I was laughing because I was sooooo tired and was getting ready for bed and it wasn’t even 9:30. THEN I realized that I hadn’t set back the bathroom clock and it was actually 8:30! I slept a wonderful sleep…. until guilt woke me.
At 4:30 I was doing bad calculations to figure out how I could make up for cheating PetCo out of two dollars. It involved some basic ‘chunk’ math. If I buy three containers of 20 (not filling the jug up all the way), I can pay for two 30-pound refills. That is not a problem. What is a problem is that every. single. time. I try to figure out cost per pound, I can never remember what to divide where. It’s even there in the sentence! It’s money divided by stuff, right? Right? But no, I have to start out with: “If I had one thing for one dollar. What if I had two things for one dollar? Which way does that go?” I am so, so stupid.
by Lauren 2 Comments
With Halloween come and gone, I have four pumpkins to dispose of. (One of our preschoolers brought in a whole patch’s worth for the classrooms.) I don’t have a compost pile any more, but I do have a junky-looking back porch that was just begging for more trash.
Wait. That looked a little too nice. How ’bout we make it weirder?
Viola’! It’s supposed to be pretty nice over the next couple of days, so I think these might just dry out and not rot. Then they’ll make some mighty fine kindlin’!
By the way, I am not crazy. Long ago, pioneers would slice pumpkins into rings and dry them for later. I’m pretty sure that was in a Laura Ingalls Wilder book. Don’t ask me to eat these rings, though. They’re a bit moldy from sitting around in the classroom. Bleh.