Monday Random: cleaning out the refrigerator

  • Buying healthy for two instead of four is challenging. I hate throwing food away, and did, often in the first months. But now I’m savvy
  • It’s less hot and low humidity today so that means it’s time to make Italian red gravy and chicken vegetable soup for the month
  • It was really scary opening the veg drawers in the fridge, and I did throw out half a cabbage and some potatoes that were beyond thought of food
  • Celery–not too many stalks went in the bin, the rest chopped fine. Some for the soup, a little for the red sauce, the rest in the freezer in a container I keep for lean days and busy days
  • Carrots–same as above–when I learned recently to make Bolognese sauce and put diced carrot in it–which I forgot to hide from hubby–I was astounded. Delicious addition my mother would not have approved of. It helped also with the acidity so I didn’t have to add sugar
  • Green pepper–pepper and egg sandwiches for breakfast and the rest in the freezer for when I make chicken cacciatore
  • So far–on one cup of coffee– the sauce is bubbling with meatballs in it, and the sink is full of sudsy water to wash dishes as I go.
  • It should be noted here that when we were first married, my husband said, ‘if you just cook like this all the time, I will the dishes’
  • Let’s not re-open that wound and put lemon juice in it
  • Seriously, I should not be able to count on two hands how many times he did dishes in 27 years. That should be at least 27 Mother’s Days
  • Okay, okay, we’ll skip to something positive, haha
  • I wanted to show you this rose:

hope rose

  • I don’t know what type it is, but it was supposed to be a large yellow bloom. We planted the bush in remembrance of my mother-in-law and the other deep pink one for my own mother, may they rest in peace.
  • If anyone knows what variety this is, do tell. Now that we have it, we love it. So delicate
  • You may recall my neighbor mowed over these struggling bushes when the landlord let the grass get too high. One, this one, had a few mangled leaves left and the other was completely gone. Just a broken twig was all I saw left in the dirt
  • My mother’s now has fresh growth on it and this one, well as you see, there is still life in the old girl
  • The metaphor did not escape me for something that felt dead and was mangled and beat up, like my life was for awhile, and finding that there is still a spark inside
  • If it weren’t for God I wouldn’t be making it. I was barely breathing. So grateful–

I can’t help but feel much hope that I have yet another Monday to work and grow and write and share.  I bid you a good day and wish for you a great, productive, creative week–

–Rose

 

coffee gray.jpg



it is ten a.m.
and the house is gray
the rooms are gray and the ceiling
is gray, and
when I look outside
the sky is gray
it does not look bright
or gay–today

in my head
it is dark like my coffee
but I am tranquil

don’t worry
about the trash in your yard
it’s not
from my yard
it’s from all the thoughts
that heap up
in the middle of the storm
whirling
with a gig of their own

I made mine coffee

I made you tea with lemon
honey
because I heard you cough
in the shower, and
that is what we do

the honey
an unexpected sweetness
after clouds of humid
yesterdays
it is so hard to see you

sleep interrupted twice
barking dogs
and twice as nice
an early morning garbage
hauler

paring knife, and
melon ball-er cutting
through the heat
with the precision
of one who knows
what is needed

1932

I stir  the slurry of water and coffee grounds
and you are there
deaf and dumb-
slicing the mold off the vegetables
I throw them into the soup
cutting last years t-shirts into rags
to scrub the windows

I swallow the placebo like a good girl
playing along
someone removes another block, and
I keep smiling while I fall to pieces
telling a joke I heard on the bus
laughter instead of sunset
coloring my sky

Mid-week stomp

Wednesday wakes up and walks on my face
twenty minutes before my alarm goes off
I cover my head from the sun, swearing
at him for opening the drapes so early

Wednesday spills coffee grounds on the counter
and I feel them under my socks
moving through morning chores I no longer
think about as I accomplish them

Wednesday says, ‘today is hump-day
and you have not been humping,’ and
mocks me, laughing when I am late
but I move on, move on like any other day

Wednesday follows me to the grocery store
and I scurry around corners to shake him
but when I get into line, he is before me
giggling with too many items in express