A month of meals - Part 2

Step one in planning a month of meals is to figure out what you want to eat. Pretty basic.

Besides my usual cookbooks, I have a binder full of other recipes. Isn't it beautiful?

Some of the recipes were handwritten by the person who gave it to me. Some of these are hole-punched and filed.

Some are printed off the computer.

Some were cut out of the newspaper and glued to printer paper.

Others were ripped from magazines.

For meal planning, I simply numbered a sheet of paper from 1 to 30 and started putting entrees next to the number. I prefer to go meatless on Fridays, so I marked 4 for that. I made sure certain favorites were included. Then I flipped through the books and recipe files for the rest. I'm planning for at least 4 recipes that I've never tried before.

One other resource that I had for meals was old calendars filled with menu plans. I've been planning meals a month at a time for over a year. I have been planning them, not executing them. There is a huge difference. My current scheme is all about setting myself up for success.

*******

What has been my downfall in the past? Often, I knew what I wanted to make, but didn't have the time that day to pull it off. Recently, I planned to bake boneless chicken thighs. Unfortunately, the chicken I bought was bone-in. I needed dinner in a half hour, but bone-in takes over an hour to cook. Instead, I was microwaving frozen spaghetti sauce and boiling noodles.

Often, I would forget that the dish I planned for 2 weeks away needed green onions or sour cream or something that I don't always buy, but needs to be somewhat fresh. Dinnertime approaches and I'm missing key items.

Or I forget to pull the meat from the freezer and really don't have time for it to thaw. Then I'm ordering pizza delivery. Or we rush to practice and swing through a drive-thru.

I'm hoping to avoid these situations more often by having meals as prepped in advance as possible, by buying all non-perishable ingredients needed at the beginning of the month, and by making now the shopping lists I'll need for each week. If my Saturday routine has me going to the grocery store for perishables and pulling the week's meals out of the freezer to begin thawing, I should minimize the need for emergency food. At least that's the plan.

*******

I decided today to take all those old calendars and put the entrees in a sortable list in a spreadsheet (it's OK if you call me a dork). Interestingly enough, I had only 60 different entrees for over a year's worth of eating. Now, one of them was "marinated chicken" which is not very specific - there are many different marinades. But the concept is the same. One was "salmon." I use 2 or 3 different salmon recipes, typically. So there was some variety within those 60, but not much. I suspect that most families are the same. Family-tailored menu planning really isn't complicated. Stick with what your family likes.

After I came up with 30 entrees, I filled them in on a blank calendar template (Sunday - Saturday columns and five rows for the weeks). Things that would take longer went on the weekends often. Easy cleanups went during the week so I won't come home to a messy kitchen after baseball practice. I added side dishes, trying to vary things within each week. I also made out a basic schedule for breakfast and lunch, which I've never done before. We'll see how the kids respond to that.

OK. That's step one. That's the easiest part. Next step: building the grocery list.

Hope (and Change)

GOP Takes Unprecedented 10-Point Lead on Generic Ballot

When your car goes careening over the solid yellow line, it's a natural reaction to jerk the wheel to the right.

Local 5K

I'm very disappointed that this race will be the weekend we have booked out of town. If you are in the Savannah area, like to run 5Ks, and want to support a good cause, check it out. Proceeds are earmarked for the Warriors in Transition Unit at Ft. Stewart (my husband's unit).

Happy Birthday, Dear

Before.













After.

A month of meals - Part I

I do recommend, if you should ever make your own monthly meal plan, that you give yourself a few weeks to organize it. You could just jump in - as I have. But then you will find yourself on a Sunday night at a stopping point because you do not have key ingredients - like meat - and you will refuse to pay the local grocery store prices and since the cheaper options are too far away to conveniently visit on a school day, like Monday should be, you will be somewhat, but not entirely, chagrined.

Oh, and soccer practice starts tomorrow. Hooray.

Right now, of 30 meals, I have 15 (half!) as prepped as I can get them. Some, like crustless spinach quiche, can't really be done in advance (and still taste good). Some were extremely easy to prep, like London Broil in a marinade. Others, like my beef stew, are ready to go (just make rolls).

In addition, I have another 7 in mid-prep. The meat for the chili is cooked. The corned beef for the Reuben's is in the crock pot. The pot roast is marinading.

The remaining 8 require ingredients (8 simple items). I would have my husband stop at the store after work tomorrow, but it's his birthday (and we have soccer practice). Perhaps he can go on Tuesday.

In the meantime, I will finish those other 7 recipes, and I have plenty of computer work to do. I'd like to make legible shopping lists for starters. And a nice looking menu. And directions for next time (like how much beef to brown, in total, and how much to leave raw, for the others recipes and what logical order to do things based on cooking time and available pots in my kitchen).

The menu is slated to begin next Sunday, so my goal is to do one last grocery trip for all the non-perishables I'll need for the month on Friday or Saturday.

More later...

It's what's for dinner.

I actually don't know what's for dinner tonight. It's still early.

But I DO know what's for dinner in September. ALL September. And for breakfast and lunch, too.

Not only do I know what's for dinner, I am in the midst of putting together all of the recipes I'll need. And making grocery lists for all ingredients (separating them into "buy now" and "buy fresh" categories). And planning which things can be made in advance. And hopefully doing that pre-cooking or other prep work in the next few days.



When I told my husband these plans, he said that I was "crazy"...and "ambitious." I asked which, and pointed out that "crazy" was an insult and "ambitious" was a compliment. He artfully dodged answering.

The project IS rather ambitious, and I've been working hard all day. My plan is to use this monthly menu three months in a row. While I'm using it, I'll put together a winter menu to use three months in a row. Then a spring one, then a summer one. If I do this every quarter for three years, I'll have a 12 month plan!

I do know that there are already books written with this sort of menu planning in mind, but I need to go with food my family eats. If I don't make tacos at least 2 or 3 times a month, my oldest son will be upset. And if my kids have to face a whole month of casseroles or strange recipes, they will waste away until they resemble concentration camp survivors. I try to limit new recipes to once a week.

If I succeed, and I plan to succeed, I will not only not have to think about planning food for a month, I will surely save money on emergency dinners at the drive-through. We've got fall baseball and soccer and ballet starting next week and the week after. I need to get food on the table in a jiffy.

Adrenaline beats caffeine any morning

"Now that's an ominous sign," I told Bill as we stepped out the front door. It was 6:40 am and a full moon hovered just above the tree line.

After he pulled away, I went back in the house and headed into the kitchen for a cup of coffee. I stopped dead in front of the refrigerator. Up on top, a snake perched, looking down at me.

I blinked. Do we have any plastic toy snakes, I pondered. Is it a prank of some kind? Am I seeing things?

It moved.

I screamed.

I immediately called Bill. "You have to come home! There's a snake on top of the fridge!"

Had he been even 2 more minutes down the road, I would not have called him. But lucky me.

We tried to get a picture, but the resident 2 year old had exhausted my camera battery. And the zoom lens doesn't reach from the other side of the kitchen.

I do not know how the thing got up there. I'm not sure I want to know.

Bill came home, captured the snake, and took it outside. What a guy.

What a day...and it's only just beginning.

Path to perdition

I just dropped Fritz off to work on an Eagle project for Scouts.

So that he could let me know when to get him, I loaned him my cell phone.

You know what comes next, right?

First, we decide to get a "kids' phone". Then one phone doesn't cut it, so he ends up with his own phone.

Then we buy a "kids' car". Then his own car.

Then he's stealing our money to buy coke and we're bailing his spoiled rotten little rear end out of jail and he refuses to hold a job and can't pay the child support he owes on his three kids all by different women.

And all because I loaned him my cell phone.

Social Experimenting

If you or someone you know is in the military, you may be aware that a survey went out to (I believe) all members of the armed forces asking their opinions on the Don't Ask, Don't Tell policy. In addition, 150,000 randomly selected spouses were sent a similar survey. I was one of those picked to provide feedback on the potential repeal.

Now, reasonable people agree that employers have the right to discriminate in hiring based on certain criteria. For example, a hospital may require that employees hired to be physicians actually have a medical degree and be certified by a board. A fire department may require that firefighters meet a certain physical fitness level. We WANT employers to discriminate on such a basis. Nobody wants his appendix removed by an 18 year old high school graduate. Nobody wants a firefighter with an impaired arm running into his burning house to retrieve his sleeping child.

But reasonable people may disagree on whether the military may use sexual orientation to discriminate. If they can do the job, physically and mentally, then they should be able to serve, many argue. This is the same argument for women serving in the military. The fact that these employees serve in extremely close quarters for long periods of time, go off for a year or more together away from their families, and that many of these jobs require supreme trust in each other and that lives are at stake, does not matter to some people. And that's fine.

If repealing Don't Ask, Don't Tell were merely a matter of allowing gays to serve in the military, we could restrict the discussion to civil liberties and justice. But it's not "just" about gays serving in the military. Oh, no.

The Don't Ask, Don't Tell questionnaire I received began innocuously enough. Select which things motivated my husband to serve. Would a repeal make my husband more or less likely to remain in the military. Would a repeal make me more or less likely to recommend military service to others. If there were a repeal, select the ways in which I would prefer to be educated about the changes. Select the resources I would use if I had questions or concerns about the repeal.

And then, the survey asked me about housing and how I would feel about living in a neighborhood with a gay couple. It asked me about resources, services and support systems for military families and if I would be more or less likely to use them if gay couples used them.

For those of you not in the military, I must explain a few things about military life and being a military dependent. A soldier gets a base salary. On top of that, the soldier receives special pay depending on his/her job and duty location. The soldier also receives something called BAS, which is a food allowance. Lastly, soldiers receive BAH, or a housing allowance. The BAS is a flat rate per soldier (enlisted get more than officers) and is not tied to family members. The BAH is based on rank and on marital status. The higher you are in rank, the more you get. Married soldiers get more than unmarried soldiers (you do not get more if you have children).

If a soldier lives in military housing (on or off post) he will not receive the BAH. The rent of a military house equals the BAH. Single soldiers (generally) live in single soldier housing. Married soldiers live in family housing. An unmarried soldier with children will live in family housing if the children live with him/her. Girlfriends and boyfriends of soldiers do not have the right to live in military housing. If you want to shack up, you live in civilian housing off post.

If Don't Ask, Don't Tell is repealed, it seems that the military will be required to accept not just gay service members, but gay couples and families as well. What does that mean in the big picture?

Right now, gay marriage and/or civil unions are legal in only eight states and DC. Thirty-six states have made it illegal (thirty have it in their constitution). If Don't Ask, Don't Tell is repealed and gay service members are granted recognition of their partners as military dependents, that is the same thing as having the federal government bless gay marriage.

This is, by the way, how segregation was destroyed in America. Most of the country was not segregated. Unfortunately, the South was, and the military was as well. It took a generation, but once the military enforced integration, it paved the way for the federal government to ban segregation nationwide. That was a good thing.

Segregation is wrong. Ending racial discrimination is good.

Repealing Don't Ask, Don't Tell will give gay marriages and families federal recognition and federally funded privileges (housing, medical and life insurance, death benefits, and other services). This will completely undermine states' efforts to protect and preserve traditional marriage, the foundation of society.

Destroying traditional marriage is not good. Therefore, repealing Don't Ask, Don't Tell is not good.

Battle Buddy

An emergency came up last evening and I had to bring home my friend's five children for a likely overnight stay. Eleven children aged 12 and under are extremely noisy. Of course, just to make things interesting, my husband and I took them all out to the local ice cream shop.

For once, nobody asked if they were all ours.

All was fine and my friend picked up three who were still awake when she got back late last night. As we were going to bed, my husband told me I was a good friend.

"I'm not doing anything I don't expect my friends to do for me...not that I've ever needed something like that...wait, I dumped our kids' at Rachel's house when I had a D&C...see, that's just how we are."

Just two nights before, I was running out to the all night grocery store to buy formula and a bottle for a breastfed baby whose mommy had to run his sister to the ER. Her husband is deployed, the friend watching her son (the same one with last night's emergency) has a deployed husband, and my husband was deploying when I had the D&C. This is just the nature of our lives right now.

We're more than friends. We're battle buddies.

But wait, there's more...

First of all, I have to say that I failed to mention the laptop, cell phone and iPod on Katie's birthday list. I figured most people would assume they were there. She's nine, and my daughter and a modern girl, too.

And the only reason a pony isn't on the list is because we've been over that one a dozen times. The military won't move your horse.

One other item that was on her list was a light for reading at bedtime that clips onto her bed. Her brothers each got one for the feast of the Epiphany last January. She and Jenny were very disappointed that they did not also get one.

So I got her one, just like her brothers'. In fact it was so very like her brothers' that it even had a sticker on it with a St. Nick and words addressing it "To: Katie, From: The Three Kings." She and her sister had been misbehaving last January and I threatened them with one less Epiphany present if they did not straighten up. They didn't, so these lights have been shoved in the back of my closets (here and the one in Virginia) for 7 1/2 months.

She was happy with this one (not Silly Bandz squealing, just normal happy) and laughed when I pointed out the sticker. Jenny asked if that meant she was getting a light for her birthday next month.

"Put it on your list," I said.

Birthday presents

Back in March, Katie was upset about something and decided that all her personal issues with life hinged upon the fact that WE (her father and I) NEVER get her ANYTHING that she requests for Christmas or her birthday. Ever. That's right. We make every effort we can to spoil her days and make her cry.

So, I told her that from then on, all requests for gifts would have to be made in writing, signed in blood, sealed and filed for future reference.

Several weeks ago, with a birthday looming, I requested her list.

"TWO pages?" I asked, incredulous, as I stared at her notebook.

"Actually, it's three," she replied and turned the page.

"Uh, you need to rank them. Give me your top 3 to 5. And I make no promises..." I warned. With the finalized list in hand, I sat down at the computer to shop.

Umbrella. OK.

Backscratcher. Hey, if a $3 gift floats your boat, no problem.

LEGOS. Yes, 99% of the LEGOS we have a very boy-like. Of course, 99% of the LEGOS made are very boy-like.

And last, but not least, the item she wanted most and which elicited the greatest shouts of glee: Silly Bandz. And she immediately opened the package and put all 27 of them on her arm. Whatever.



She is 9. Half of my children are halfway (or more) to adulthood.



Happy birthday, Katie.

Clarification

Spending 15 minutes discussing the realist's perspective on world affairs and how that perspective conforms or not with Catholic teaching on the nature of man and whether or not states are sentient beings and how an individual's value system affects his country's behavior, while very interesting, is not at all what I had in mind when I said that we really needed to carve out some time every evening to talk.

Intelligent conversation: CHECK.

Azimuth check on how we're spending the weekend: INCOMPLETE

Guess you had to be there

Indecent wet t-shirt

A woman at a splash park was told that she was dressed indecently when her t-shirt got wet. She was wearing a bra underneath. The person who approached her told her she had to put on a bathing suit.

Because bathing suits these days are so much more decent than bras and wet t-shirts.

Yeah.

Not Ready

My 12 year old is acting like he's 2. He found his dad's shoes and has slipped them on.






They fit.






If you'll excuse me, I have to go cry now.

Lost and found

I love that Netflix keeps your history of movie rentals and returns. Or not returns.


The Tale of Despereaux. Shipped 4/30/09. Purchased 8/8/09.

I don't even know if the kids watched it before it disappeared. Vanished without a trace.

I just now found it. Three hundred sixty-nine days after purchase. After having packed, moved and unpacked an entire house.

Buried in the stack of blank, writeable CDs. Of course.

Wonder if they would give me my money back if I returned it...

Why housewives will save the world

My husband shared this article by Patrice Lewis with me. It has inspired me to learn more about brassiere holsters for handguns.

I also love the conclusion: Don't thank us. We're just doing our job. But please, remember to put the toilet seat down.

First Day of School

I don't usually take "first day of school" pictures. I don't usually make a big deal of that day at all, even if it is kindergarten. Maybe I should. But for me, our life just flows naturally from non-school days to school days. Yes, suddenly, there may seem to be a set time or a more firmly directed exercise. But it's not like I never read to my kids before kindergarten, or never have them draw or color or practice writing, or listen to music. It was probably a bigger deal for Fritz, but for all the others, this is just life.

But yesterday, the moment was too precious to not record. The joy, the excitement, the anticipation of his very first day of kindergarten. I can only imagine his thoughts of the fun he might have or the things he might do or the stories we might read.

Or perhaps, he was simply thinking, "Does she SERIOUSLY expect me to get up this early?"

Boggle: not just for word games

Somebody gave us this portable Boggle game as a thank you for some volunteer work I made the kids do. It's pretty cool, and the kids have been playing with it, the way it was intended to be played, some of the time.

The handiest feature is the built in 3 minute timer. After shaking the letter tiles, you twist the container closed and the timer begins automatically. This is the point at which gamers are supposed to begin scribbling down their words.

However, in other situations, this is when the "spy"/"army guy"/"villain"/"hero" RUNS LIKE MAD knowing he has only 3 minutes to get away before his bomb explodes.

That's Monkey for Pippo

Before reading the book for the gazillionth time, Mary and I looked at the cover.

"What's his name?" I asked, pointing to the little boy.

"Ah...I dunno," she confessed.

"His name is Tom. And what is the monkey's name?" I pointed to the stuffed friend.

"Ooo...eee...eee...ah...ooo," she replied, almost with a straight face.

I didn't realize my 2 year old spoke Monkey.

Random

It was only 17 days wait, but it seemed an eternity. I got my new computer today. My desk was rather dusty and unused. I missed it.

Now I can go online, but I have no favorites, no bookmarks, no cookies, no files, and no programs. My desktop (the virtual one) is very blank.

I'm not complaining. OK, I am. I've been moaning all day.

***

In other news, I just placed an order online for Christmas presents for the family. I think this is a record for me. I've been thinking about Christmas since last Christmas. Decided we're taking a vacation to (whisper whisper). Sorry, my kids often read my blog, so I can't speak any louder. It's a bit south of here (but not much). The main gift is the trip, to be taken in January or February, but smaller gifts will be related to that trip. So I bought...again, my kids read my blog. Hmm. Colorful terry cloth. On sale, since the need for rectangles of colorful terry cloth is diminishing quickly as stores pull out their fall lineups.

Fall. Long sleeves. Right now, it seems so unfathomable. I can sort of imagine temperatures below 90. But below 80 is tough.

***

Bill has taken a few days off, so my intent to start school today was blithely put aside for next week. The public schools start on Wednesday. Despite that, it's really hard to get in the mood.

And having a broken computer didn't help my prep either. I'm just not ready.

Talking at you

He was going to Florida on business, leaving in the morning, driving. She had an appointment that morning, but would head to her parents' house, in a different part of Florida, that afternoon.

Things were hectic that morning. She pulled the large green duffel bag and the small wheeled suitcase from the closet and put them in the master bedroom, tossing in a few of the kids' things she had ready. A bit later, he went up to pack. "Which bag should I take?" he called out to her as she scurried around, getting ready for her appointment.

"The wheeled one!" she shouted from several rooms away. She wasn't sure he heard her but figured when he saw the children's belongings in the duffel bag, he would have his answer.

She raced off to her appointment, kissing him goodbye, knowing he'd be gone when she got back.

Hours later, he called home from the road (he was not driving, just in case anyone would like to flag him for unsafe behavior). "How are you?" he asked.

She had just gotten home and was trying to get the house shut down and the family out the door. "I'm a little crazy right now," she answered, wondering if he needed something.

"Oh." Pause.

"You know, I'm in that frantic, trying to make sure I get everything done and don't come home to stinky garbage left in the kitchen stage."

"Oh." Pause.

"You know, that 'Why is he calling me and keeping me from getting my work done?' insane stage of packing."

"Oh." Pause. "Maybe I should go."

"Yeah...I'll call you when I get on the road."

Ten minutes later, she went upstairs to pack her clothes. No duffel bag. She ran downstairs and asked the kids if they had seen it. They swore it was upstairs. She ran upstairs. No duffel bag. She ran downstairs to get the phone, which should have been upstairs, but was obviously placed to ensure a good day's exercise instead.

"Do you...wha...why..." Pause for breath and to compose herself. "Did you take the green duffel?"

"Yes."

"Didn't we...what did...didn't you..." The incoherent spluttering continued for a bit while she searched for the right words. She inhaled. "Did you ask me which suitcase to take?"

"Yes."

"What did you hear me say?"

"Um, I didn't hear very clearly, but I thought you said to take the duffel bag."

"Even though the kids' stuff was in it?"

"Yeah, I thought maybe you changed your mind."

"You left all the kids' stuff here?"

"Oh, yes."

"OK. No big deal. I meant for you to take the wheeled one." Pause. "I just want to clarify that we completely screwed this up."

"Yeah..."

"Maybe we need to work on our communication skills?"

"Yeah."

Or maybe we shouldn't run around like chickens without heads.

Or both.