Eat food not babies


Last night I realized I have turned into a scavenger. I mean a total, ‘what the heck is for dinner ma?’ hearing no response and realizing you’re 25 and been living on your own for seven years, say what?, so you go to dig in your kitchen for something edible and not expired, kind of scavenger.

*Deep inhale* That was a long one…

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I somehow, somewhere along the line threw out any kind of recipe for dinner, except one for this pumpkin white bean chili that became a real people pleaser last Fall. Me being the people, of course. It was practically a staple for all of November… and December… I’m a Crock Pot worshipper. Hey, it’s better than a crack pot worshipper… *drum kick, cymbal crash* I filled my lame joke quota.

Anyway I made some tilapia and a cous cous salad, with… wait for it… fresh vegetables. Not half bad Katelyn, not half bad. Sister Fierce is a dinner making machine. I mean she’s got something good on the menu for almost every night, excluding leftover night (which I do not attend). I would not put it past her if she had actual laminated menus for when Brother Godwin comes home. She’s a fierce Better Crocker.

And I am not. I dig through the fridge and cupboard and toss together whatever I can find. Elk steaks, whole grain pasta, veggie steamers, bell peppers, Cheez-its, limes, graham crackers, always have an onion on hand, dark chocolate, toss some spices together and hope they mix well…

The single life has ruined me! Or made me a culinary genius?

No, it’s ruined me.

I made a stir fry the other night, roasted some red potatoes, and put a glob of cottage cheese on a plate. That’s about as fancy as I get right there folks. I peppered everything, I’m not an animal!

Are you feeling sorry for me yet? Want to make me a home cooked meal? Take me out to dinner? I have excellent table manners. And I’m a wealth of endless dinner conversation topics. Zombies? Johnny Depp movies? Crazy Lady stories? How about all three?

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Explaining this to Crazy Lady…

My reference making ability has not suffered from hunger! Any takers? Fine, your loss.

In breaking news: I have decided to chop the curls off. At least three inches. I can hear the weeping already, but I cannot, cannot, handle them anymore. I honestly think my hair is trying to kill me, slowly swallowing me whole, day-by-day. I’m tired of being recognized by my hair… do people not see me for me anymore!? I believe it is time. Not to mention I shed worse than Danny the dog, no exaggeration, I spend most of the day picking curly strands of hair out of my clothes, and scarves, and socks…  I let Aunt Sassy Pants know yesterday at church, because for some strange reason she has more of a relationship with my hair than I do. She seemed to take the news well, so I’m going ahead with it. Onward and upward!

This is either a really good idea, or a really bad one.

P.S. I have the most adorable baby nephew in the world. Baby Gil is 4 mos old, and you’ll be happy to know I have not eaten his face off, yet.

Gil

I just want to EAT HIM UP!

I was denied my visitation rights today due to the fact I went home early because I wasn’t feeling well. Apparently Baby Gil is not to be exposed to potentially harmful germs. Whatever…

Baby Gil has a tendency to wrap his little fingers in a death grip around Aunt Kate’s curls. Not cool Gilbert, not cool. It should hurt more than it does, but like any curly-haired person knows, your scalp loses feeling after the first five years of your parent’s attemps to brush your hair. Thank you Crazy Lady. I hope Baby Gil has curly hair… well I just hope Baby Gil’s hair comes back…

Okay, I am done writing now, I need to go rest up and prepare myself for the rest of this week. It may be a long one…

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