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What do you do when you haven’t planned on fixing dinner (because of a planned fast-which turns out to be scheduled next week! Not today); and you are heading out the door to take care of errands?
You run to the fridge and stare inside…. wait for inspiration…. Voila!
There it is… two pieces of fried chicken (No, not healthy I know) from Winco (an employee owned grocery store).
I throw them in my crock pot on low with a little water to cover…. then out the door I run.
The fable of ‘Stone Soup’ came to my mind. You’ve never heard the story? I heard it as a little girl and I’ve always found it amusing. It goes something like this.
A destitute looking man happened upon a village carrying a few meager possessions. Surprisingly two of his belongings were a big cooking pot, and a rock. The man (I’m going to call him Charlie) went to the middle of town and began to make a fire. Charlie then went to the stream and filled his pot with water.
Curious towns people watched as Charlie placed the pot on the fire. To their amazement he pulled a large stone out of his knapsack and dropped it into the pot of water. The townspeople can’t take it anymore… “What are you doing?” Charlie smiles and tells them that he is making soup; it will taste remarkable. He sits and pokes at the fire and begins to tell the people that if he had a few more items it would greatly improve the flavor.
One of the women tells Charlie that she has a few carrots and wonders if they would help… you get the picture.
Different townspeople bring Charlie items that they don’t ‘mind’ parting with, all of which eventually creates a nourishing pot of Stone Soup.
So why did I share this little fable with you… because after about four of errands I made my last stop – Winco. I picked up 2 zucchini, 1 lb. of baby carrots, 1 C. potato flakes (for thickening-love the bulk food area-greatest thing ever!), a bag of spinach, an onion, 2 potatoes and frozen corn.
I hit the door with about 45minutes to spare before my husband was due home. I chopped, grated, and sliced my fresh veggies and dumped them into the crock pot. I added a cup of chicken broth, and a can of Campbell’s chicken and corn chowder. Next I whipped up a batch of corn bread muffins and dinner was finished!
When my husband asked what was for dinner… I laughed and told him Stone Soup! He told me later that when he looked at it his thought was “hmmm just smile and nod, she’s had a long day”.
Like Charlie’s soup, it was delicious and nutritious!
Do you have any spur of the moment meals that got you out of a bind… love to hear about it.
Confessions of a Self Proclaimed Pack Rat
I’ve been writing since I was young… the discovery and reading of my diary lead me to go underground. I took to writing on pieces of paper, there was this innate desire to document things… I found some papers that I as a sixth grader had used in a diary fashion – you just can’t throw all those little pieces of paper away! LOL
I am a self-proclaimed recovering ‘Pack Rat’. I am currently cleaning out boxes in our garage (formerly known by me as my storage unit).
My husband has gotten it into his head that we are supposed to park our vehicles in the garage…he has even gone so far as to have a fancy new garage door installed; complete with a remote control. The nerve!
We haven’t parked a car in the garage for close to thirty years. In our last home we converted the garage into a den. When we moved into this house fourteen years ago; we stacked boxes in the garage so we could go through them in our leisure…I have been VERY leisure about going through my boxes.
My husband has built a shed and created store-able space in our attic over the garage. My reaction? Great, more space! Then he started the unthinkable! He started throwing some of his stuff away… all the while saying things like “I told you this day was coming”. “Gad-zoocks”
He actually wants me to part with some of my prized Stuff!! You know things like fabric, books, nick-knacks, craft supplies, toys, news paper articles, fabric, souvenirs, stuff from when our children were in school, two cabinet sewing machines (one belonged to my great grand mother), did I say fabric…
Well let me stop lamenting. The time is here; who knows I might even enjoy coming up the driveway, pushing a button and pulling into a clean garage… only time will tell. 🙂
Seeing how he has his mind-set on this, and to think we’ve got all that room in the front yard; not to mention the long driveway in which to park our vehicles… but I digress.
I will reduce, recycle, and donate my way to a ‘clean side’ of my used to be ‘storage haven’.
Pray for me ;->
I would like to add (I’ll call it a poem) something that has been tucked away in my paper work.
Being of a sweet and generous nature, it has always been my desire to spare my husband as much trauma as possible. I have, therefore, never consulted with him about the fabric I buy. I feel that he should be grateful that I am a fabricholic instead of an alcoholic and be willing to indulge my small passion as long as he isn’t aware of the actual expenditure represented by my growing horde.
One day recently, however, I was struck by the realization that I COULD DIE, AND WHAT WOULD HAPPEN TO MY FABRIC? My children are old enough to take care of themselves, but my fabric is helpless.
I buy fabric for the sheer pleasure of owning it. It is stashed in every available drawer, on shelves, in boxes, on the end of the cutting table, greatly reducing its use, and under the bed, until we are in danger of having to use a ladder to get onto the mattress.
It rests, carefully folded, labeled, wrapped in clear plastic so that the color and texture are clearly visible. I unwrap a piece occasionally, hold it up to the light, enjoy the hand, visualize how it might look made up, measure it again to ascertain that it has not diminished, then I carefully refold, place it in the plastic and return it to its storage place. I rarely find a pattern worthy of my prizes, so that when I really want to make up something to wear, I have to go out and buy fabric into which I can bear to cut.
The confirmed fabricholic really doesn’t want to make clothes from her treasures, she just enjoys having them. The true connoisseur collects only natural fibers. Synthetics do not tempt the heart of the purest. They are changing so fast that whatever you buy this year will be old hat next year…
Not so with natural fibers. Good silks, woolens, cottons, and linens become more rare and costly.
Becoming a grandmother shocked me into admitting that I am not immortal and will eventually leave this vale of needles and pins. I will have to leave my store behind, although I am certain that if the angels saw my fabric they would find a way for me to bring it along to stitch up into Heavenly Robes.
I began to feel like a miser with coins stashed in the mattress. Someone would have to be told about it. I waited until my husband was peacefully engaged in his favorite pastime, watering the garden, and broached the subject….
From Collector’s Quilts & Fabrics’ Newsletter, Author unknown
I wonder was this self fulfilling 🙂
So many books, and so little time… what’s a person to do (smile). Books contain a wealth of knowledge. They can inspire, teach, encourage, and can allow you to travel to far away places.
There are thousands of titles in any number of genres just waiting to be explored. I happened upon GoodReads this evening; it was nice scrolling through all of the different titles. Books that I have read, and ones that I would enjoy reading.
There are also groups galore, that you can join and become a part of… I was tempted. 🙂
I decided I had better get a handle on posting here on the blog, and working on my web site. There are always things wanting even demanding your time and sometimes money.
What is it that you are supposed to be doing? Do you know? And if you do are you doing it? Or are there a million different things crying out for your immediate attention? For now the questions are rhetorical, once I figure this whole blog thing out we will be delving into some of these very questions.
For now just think about what you spend your days doing. There is a good feeling you get when you lay your head on the pillow at the end of the day, and that day was productive.
There have been many days where I wonder what happened… didn’t I just get out of bed. I had such good intentions. Then the phone rang, the news programs caught my eye, you can’t let 270 plus emails just sit there – you have to clean out the junk, and answer that friend you haven’t heard from in awhile…. on and on and on; but don’t forget the cooking, and cleaning that always needs to be done; then before you know it it’s 11:20 p.m.
I’ll get to the ‘to do’ list tomorrow.
Sometimes you just want to curl up with a good book and a cup of tea. Maybe I will once I get things down to a dull roar!