Blog Post #1 …

If you asked me for my New Year Resolution, it would be to find out who I am.

– Cyril Cusack

Monday, January 6th, 2014.

The girls will (finally!) go back to school tomorrow and life as we know it will resume.  More or less.

I will start the new year with a clean refrigerator …

… is NOT what I was thinking this morning when I woke up.

But I needed to go buy groceries because there was a serious Old Mother Hubbard situation going on in my kitchen.

“Wait … before I go buy groceries I better clean out the fridge.  It’s garbage day anyway, and there are still too many holiday leftovers in there.  Start with the top shelf.  There’s that carton of chocolate milk that’s been in there a bit too long.  (Toss.)  And how long does whipped cream in a can keep after it’s been opened?  And wait … WHAT THE HECK SPILLED ALL OVER THE SHELF???”   It was a weird yellowish color that reminded me of cumin, but I haven’t been cooking any Indian food so what gives???

Don’t answer that.  I don’t really want to know.

OK I don’t know about you, but once I’ve completely cleaned off the top shelf so that I can take it out and wash it, I’m committed.  It’s a whole-fridge clean.  Everything had to come out, every shelf wiped, every expiration date checked.

So that was my morning.

And … I don’t know … is it just me or does anyone else do this too?  When I’ve cleaned out the fridge (like, seriously cleaned out – not just tossed out the leftover pizza and moldy cheese) I find that whenever I go into the kitchen, I have to stop and open the fridge … ya know, just to admire it.  It’s so clean.  It practically sparkles.  I will (seriously!) open the refrigerator door for no reason except to appreciate how clean it is.  Is that weird??

I think it’s a sign that I need to clean out my fridge more often because it’s clearly WAY too much of a novelty.

Anyway … fridge is clean.  Off to the store I go.

I had decided that I would send my beloved children off to bed on the night before their return to school with a hearty dinner of Broccoli-Cheese soup and crusty bread (OK, in truth, I imagined that I would serve that Broccoli-Cheese soup in a bowl made from a hollowed-out roll of crusty bread, but then I remembered that I’m neither Martha Stewart nor a restaurant called Panera Bread and so I snapped back to reality.  Large boule of crusty bread, sliced, on the side will do nicely, thank you). I don’t make resolutions, but if I did, one of them would be to get back in the kitchen and start cooking again.

So after returning from the store I set about washing and chopping broccoli, dicing onion, etc.  Popped it into the slow cooker, get on with my day.  As I think I mentioned, I don’t make resolutions. But if I did, one of them would be to use my slow cooker more often.

2nd daughter, 6th grade, needs a new binder for the new semester because they will start their “Health” unit of P.E.  We’ve had two and a half weeks over our winter break to get this task completed, but I thought we should save it for the last possible moment.  Mission accomplished.  Off to the office supply store we go.

1st daughter, 7th grade, is certain she brought her gym clothes home on the last day of school waaaaaay back in December, but we can’t seem to locate them anywhere.  We’ve had two and a half weeks to find and launder these articles of clothing, but I thought we should save it for the last possible moment.  Mission accomplished.  Since they can’t be located and the absence of proper gym attire for P.E. results in a zero for the daily grade, off to the sporting goods store we go.

Upon returning home, I realize that there’s something amiss with my slow cooker.  At this point, the aroma of simmering broccoli should be wafting throughout the house but it’s not.  Turns out my old slow cooker had decided that it’s too old to get hot enough to … you know … cook.

Awesome.  Time to come up with Plan B.

In the end, I sent my beloved children off to bed on the night before their return to school with a hearty dinner of canned Campbell’s chicken noodle soup and crusty bread, sliced, on the side.

I’m hoping that, in the giant universe of parental karma, I will at least get points for trying.

And … I have a sparkling clean refrigerator.