it's amazing i ever finish a thoug ...
Here's a peek into my world, and the reason why I have three half-finished knitting projects in my knitting bag, a one-quarter completed portrait on my painting easel, and only two-thirds of my new lavender beds dug and planted.
I'm nearly finished editing a book for my publisher (Watch for Groovy Chicks' Road Trip to Love from Cook Communications some time next year. I have a chapter entitled "Why?" included in this compilation). About three-quarters of the way through the book, I come across a recipe for easy cracker toffee. Now, this happens to be something I make frequently, only I've always called it Poor Man's Almond Roca. I notice, as I'm editing, that the contributor of this recipe says to melt the chocolate chips in the microwave before pouring over the toffee/cracker combo. I don't do it that way. I sprinkle the chocolate chips on top and let the oven melt them for me. So I write a note to that effect to my editor suggesting that they may want to consider simplifying that step in the book. That's where my afternoon begins to spin off-course.
I leave the editing, because suddenly, it seems like a very, very good idea to bring Poor Man's Almond Roca to church tonight. I preheat the oven, pull the jelly roll pan out of the cupboard, and take the brown sugar out of the cupboard. Noticing we barely have enough for this recipe, I decide to make a note to pick up some more. But I don't want to just write it on a tiny square of paper (like I usually do, just before losing it), because I'm turning over a new leaf. I've instituted ... the Fly Lady's Control Journal.
I go into our bedroom to retrieve my binder. Flipping through the pages to find my grocery list, I come across one I made up myself that says, "Pantry: Things to use up; things to replace." Never mind that the paper is titled "Pantry." The first image I have is of our refrigerator. I remember seeing a half-used bag of tortillas in the fridge, so of course I decide to make Enchilada Casserole for dinner. Do we have hamburger? Only a trip out to the freezer will tell.
As I'm kicking off my pink slippers and getting ready to shove my just-pedicured feet (thanks again for the gift certificate, Denise :) into my brown garden clogs, I notice that someone spilled Rice Krispies in the pantry. So of course I grab the broom and sweep up the mess. As I'm pulling out the dust pan from under the sink, I see the large Mason jar I stuck in there after the last batch of cut roses ran their course. Roses would look nice on the table alongside Enchilada Casserole ... so I don the clogs and head out to cut a few.
The clippers are down by the lavender beds. On my way to fetch them, I pass the blueberry bushes and see that the ones I left to ripen when I picked several days ago have gone and done just that. Forgetting the clippers (which is a good thing, because once back inside, I notice the roses my dad brought me yesterday, sitting smack dab in the center of the table. What was I thinking?), I grab a bowl and return to snatch the blue, plump-to-bursting orbs. Only after I've done that and am walking back up toward the house do I remember the hamburger.
I veer left and cross the lawn to the shed, where we keep the chest freezer Dave's parents passed down to us a few years back. I lift the lid and, because the hydrolic spring thingy is broken (why do you think it was passed down to us?) prop it up with my head while I poke around past the burritos and bagels and butter cubes. Near the corn dogs, I find the needed two pounds of hamburger. I dislodge my head, return to the house, and stick the baggie of frozen meat in the microwave to defrost.
Mildly on-task, I stand at the sink and sort the blueberries for freezing. But I leave them in mid-sort when I decide that an iced latte would make the job more fun. It takes me ten minutes to eke four shots out of our seventeen-year old espresso machine, but it's worth it.
Around sip three, for reasons known only to God and my palate, I get a hankering for dinner rolls. And that reminds me that I want to get myself back into the habit of making and freezing extra pizza crust, muffins and cookie dough. I always feel like I've managed a coup when I do that--as if I've cheated my kitchen out of an extra scrubbing. Why not make three batches of cookie dough as long as I'm dirtying the Kitchen Aid? My thoughts return to the dinner rolls. I wonder if I can find a good recipe for wheat dinner rolls on RecipeZaar.com ...
I leave the berries and search RecipeZaar. And in the middle of doing so, it occurs to me that I'm sitting right where I left off forty-five minutes ago, only back then I was doing the only thing I was supposed to do, which was editing. And then I think that I should blog about how easy it is to get sidetracked ... so here I am.
Just as soon as I hit "post," I'll get back on track. As I look at it, no harm was done. Dinner's in the works, the pantry floor is swept, and I rescued four cups of berries from an otherwise inevitable death-by-vine-wrinkle.
I'm just wondering why the jelly roll pan is sitting on the counter.