As indicated by my last post, there was a girl, a clock and a window. The end result being a vacuum called time. This blog started as insight into my life in St. Louis. Today's post will be a lame attempt at catching up what's been clogged in said vacuum.
I have turned in my crown and sash. My self~awarded title of queen of the domestically challenged has been revoked. The fast food workers and dry cleaners held a protest of any thought of me retaining such a position. Noodles and Company had to review their inventory and revenue once they stopped receiving my money 3-5 times a week. I now have to buy hangers due to my lack of using the dry cleaner to launder my clothes.
Anyone who knows me, knows that dinner for me usually consisted of anything I could take out of a box and throw into the oven. A quick trip to Trader Joe's or the BGO was the preparation my recipes required. Cheese and crackers for dinner, even easier. Enter Matt, "the boyfriend" and "the boys". I now make things from scratch, search for recipes and even know that the meat tenderizer is not easily substituted with a rubber mallet covered in plastic wrap.
There has been a meatball incident. Cue boyfriend's parents over for dinner of homemade meatballs and pasta. Shopping list made, battled the aisles of the grocery store, rolled the meatballs and put into the oven. Society would have you believe that meatballs now come from the sky however, I'm still waiting! Meatballs fully cooked ~ check. Taste test by the boyfriend ~ check. Two-thumbs up ~ check. Enter the evil kitchen fairies who never educated Vanessa on the ability of a meatball to dry out in an oven set to 200 degrees to stay warm. Obviously, I had mistimed the pasta and needed the meatballs to stay warm. If by stay warm I really meant turn them into little round hockey pucks then we would have been right on task.
On said grocery store trip, I asked the boyfriend if one jar of sauce was enough for dinner. Those damn kitchen fairies have not taught me the idea of homemade sauce yet. Against my better judgement I listened to the suggestion offered and left the store with one jar of sauce. What is worse than a dried out meatball? A dried out meatball when sauce is limited. Bless his parents and the makers of Tums, they did eat dinner. However, stretching the sauce and having the hostess end up with buttered noodles for dinner is not very Martha Stewart~esque.
What pisses me off is the self~awarded domestic disability is not automatically replaced with cooking diva or domestic engineering goddess. Now I'm left in the middle of the pack scratching and clawing through the car pick-up line and slipping in word choices and using 4-letter words, are heard and advertised by all children! They may not hear you call them for dinner or to do their homework but one mumbled 4- letter word is heard like a siren!
I figure the only chance I stand for a new title is put all my efforts into one category. Since this contest doesn't have a swimsuit category, I'm going for coupon princess. I have developed an obsession with saving the most money at the register. This is not as easy as it sounds. I have to politely point out to the non-smiling lady behind the register coupons that didn't scan. Then we have to do the song and dance portion of the category, yes...yes I really did buy and fulfill the terms of said coupon. I don't know why your register isn't accepting it. The research portion of going through the receipt and possibly the bag of groceries is the home stretch. I am victorious as she punches in my $0.50 discount!
Grocery shopping, lunch packing, sock matching, homework helping, recipe searching and meal cooking is my daily life. Those of you that haven't chocked reading these changes, will be happy to know that blogging about laundry can be interesting dammit! Now you can look forward to stories of a trip to the Dollar Store that a 7 year-old referred to as intense.
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