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Why, oh why, do I persist in buying bulk chicken from Costco? It’s not madness, really. I think it’s due to my admirable (but sometimes misguided) sense of thriftiness. The low price is irresistable — I mean, really, it’s so cheap it’s practically a crime not to buy it!
More often than not I do buy it, then am unsuccessful in my scramble to use it all before the “use by” date.
This time pressure, combined with my aversion to using frozen meat and our shortage of freezer space, means that I end up wasting half the package, driving the price per pound significantly higher than if I’d bought it at a standard grocery store.
Still, I am unable to admit defeat, so the unused chicken remains in my fridge, taunting me every time I open the door.
Even with the door closed, I know that the rotting chicken is inside clucking mockingly at me, reminding me of my failure.
Cluck…cluck…cluck…
“…the hellish tattoo of the (chicken) increased. It grew quicker and quicker, and louder and louder every instant…”
Here’s my Thanksgiving discovery – Ghirardelli brownie mix tastes great with an egg substitute. Instead of egg I substituted 1/4 cup applesauce plus 1 teaspoon baking powder.
It’s super easy; just put all of the ingredients (mix + “egg” + milk + oil) into a bowl, stir 40 times, pour and bake in a greased pan.
I received the most wonderful gift in the mail last week: a thank you note. It was for a birthday present given so long ago that I can’t remember what month it was…June? July?
I sincerely call this a gift because I am terrible at thank you notes, so I’m thrilled to find someone as note-challenged as I am. This etiquette flaw has become even more pronounced now that I have three kids. My expanding brood has exponentially increased the number of notes I need to write (add this to the things you should consider when planning a family!)
My parents were in town last week and we decided to go to the movies with my sister, her boyfriend, and my cousin.
To please this diverse crowd (including my mother, who frowns primly at the word “boobies” and forebade me in 1984 to listen to the radio station that played “Like a Virgin”), we needed something not too racy, not too long, and definitely not too violent. We settled on Dan In Real Life as the least objectionable choice.
I read this article in The Onion years ago and it still makes me giggle.
Remember this the next time that you talk in code to your spouse and think your kids don’t understand.
In my defense, it had been a very long day. I woke up at five o’clock that morning, drove an hour to my client site, and taught for eight hours before heading back to daycare to pick up my kids.
After daycare, I decided to take the kids – then aged four, two, and six months – to the carwash, which they love. This was my first mistake.
I came across this old ad on a friend’s blog.
It may help improve your marriage if:
- You make terrible coffee (worse than Folger’s Instant)
- Your happiness and self-worth depends on fulfilling your husband’s wishes, AND
- Your husband is an asshole
It’s funny; enjoy. Thank God the times have changed!
p.s. Thanks Noel!
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