Figures that the last week of July would be my week for groceries. I’m
heading to the store in a few minutes, until then, preparing mentally for the
mealy week ahead. Here’s what I’ve got so far:
Day One (Monday): Ph. has a soccer match at 7:15. In the mosquito
hatchery that doubles as Wetlands Soccer Park. IOW, we’ll be the dinner.
Home by 9. Actual dinner: microwave popcorn with popsicles for dessert (only if it’s a win).
Day Two: Our third wedding anniversary. Celebrating a superfine three years. D.
and I eat at a respectable restaurant, while Ph. sits at home, playing PS2 and
eating graham crackers (relax, they’re honey graham crackers).
Day Three and Four: Where have the appetites gone? Y. (who reminds me more and
more of a junkyard Snoopy) is still sick. Poor lil’ guy. But damn! Nobody’s
Day Five: Creamed corn casserole. Too hot to bake, so I put the microwave
to work. And work. it. does. Which is more than we can say for the washing
machine or dishwasher. Hey Maytag, are we unlucky or should these rusty
&^% appliance go to the scrap-heap?
Day Six: Nearing expirations on the many milks in the refrigerator. Dinner
idea: dairy consumption contest. Vanilla soy milk, 2%, skim. Oh, and why
not: yogurt, sour cream, half-n-half and cottage cheese.
Day Seven: It’s the end of my week, which saddens me just a little bit.
For a mood-lift, we splurge on double-toasted everything bagels and cokes (Coke
floats if I pick up some ice cream).
For breakfasts: Cinnamon Life, wheat germ and PB toast.
I’m gone to the store.