Some days, no matter how ambitious I feel, it takes me foreeeeeever to get things done.
On a recent Saturday morning, I made two salads and one dessert for an evening dinner with guests. I’ve made these recipes for years, so it’s no biggie. Oh, yeah, uh-huh, right!
To start off in grand style, I knocked over a fresh cup of coffee, one I had eagerly anticipated since arising. I had to move everything off the counter, wipe it down and clean up the coffee maker and miscellaneous appliances where the sweetened, sticky beverage had splattered. I had just dumped extra coffee down the sink because that one delectable cup was sufficient caffeine for one day. I let this tragedy go, and ate two pieces of orange chocolate for my morning energy boost.
Then the lid to my blender dropped and the center cap rolled away. I had to search for that, and in the process found another lid under the kitchen cooking island that I had lost weeks ago. At least one pleasant surprise showed up among all this excitement.
Next, I dropped a quart of yogurt, the lid flew off, and a cup’s worth of delicious fresh yogurt slung on the floor under the fridge. Now I had to pull out the fridge. But it was fully loaded and we don’t have slides beneath its footers, eliminating that possibility. But … have you ever smelled sour yogurt? So I got down on hands and knees to push a wet rag beneath the fridge and behind the yogurt, pulling it forward and out where I could reach to mop up. And no, my arm doesn’t fit under there – I used a ruler to push the rag around, after hunting for it through three drawers. Repeating the swiping until I determined the spilled yogurt was sufficiently smeared all over the floor, I squirted vinegar on the area and let it sit for a few hours, then wiped it up. So far, no smell.
My white sugar canister was almost empty so I brought a new bag of sugar up from storage in the basement. Only then did I realize the recipe called for brown sugar, too, and that canister was empty, requiring a second trip down to the basement for a new bag of that. Emptying it into the canister, I remembered that I always store marshmallows in my brown sugar to keep it soft. I store my extra marshmallows in the freezer – in the basement. My third trip down almost convinced me to move my entire kitchen down there, but I simply didn’t have time.
Finally, I finished my Three Bean Salad, Strawberry Yogurt Fluff, and a slow cooker Peach Crumble. I jammed marshmallows on a meat fork, stuck it over a gas burner, smeared the toasted result onto a graham cracker, and sprinkled on some chocolate chips for a tasty treat. I’d earned it!
I have a rule of thumb to not bake, brew, or concoct more than three items at a time, or I will over-reach. I may need to narrow that down to two. Or perhaps I simply need to slow down and pay attention to what I am doing instead of mentally redesigning living room decor and landscaping our yard while I cook.
Which reminds me – that morning, while shaking spilled sugar off my kitchen rug – (oh, I forgot to mention that?) – I discovered our wild strawberry plants sporting little red berries. I left them for neighborhood rabbits, and gave thanks that I hadn’t dug the plants out, thinking they were nettles.
Sigh! Yes, I once carefully dug out nettles and transplanted them to my garden, thinking they were volunteer strawberries from my neighbor’s fruit farm. But that, my friend, is another post.
Take life into your own hands and make it happen. It’s your life. Lead it.
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