You see, DH was up north last weekend, assisting in the cutting down of a very old, very tall, very leaning over a building oak tree at his mother's place. And when he left to come home, she sent home a box--a grocery store banana box--of 'stuff I ordered through the food bank'. Being such a large box, he threw it in the truck without looking at it, assuming it held a variety of edible items.
*For reasons DH and I haven't been able to figure out, and have never found offered around us no matter how we search, up where Mother-in-Law lives, she apparently can order items from the local food bank. The offerings vary widely month to month, and are typically close dated, but are very very cheap. Like the time she got a case of Betty Crocker cookie mixes for something like $3. Now, sometimes she actually gets stuff we are willing to eat and appreciate her generosity in purchasing and sharing with us (she rarely eats any of it herself, but buys it with the intent to give it to her kids and grandkids). But more often than not, its not something we really use often--or at all, like the gallon jug of buffalo wing sauce. . .the institutional sized cans of fruit cocktail. . . the Suddenly Salad packets. . . we did use the restaurant portioned packages of 2 saltines per package--all 200 some--but it was annoying to unwrap enough to put into a soup bowl, not to mention having all those stupid plastic wrappers to throw away. . .*
Anyway, to continue my story here, DS2 and Surprise had also gone up north, meeting DH at a spot along the way that was equidistant from both our houses and riding together the remaining distance to Mother-in-Law's. When they split up again on the way home, DS2 grabbed four bags of the Alfredo noodles from the opening in the top of the box to take home for him and Surprise to eat. Upon his arrival at this little place here, DH plopped the box on the island in my kitchen, and said "Mom sent some noodles and stuff".
Oh great. "Mom sent" is a phrase that anymore sends chills down my spine. She means well, she really does, but what she sends typically ends up being my problem to store, use up, or find a means of disposing of (ironically, the stuff she buys at such a bargain from her food bank is not acceptable for donation at any food bank I've talked to down here; typically because of the expiration date or method of packaging.)
Trying to mask the heavy sigh that involuntarily escaped my body, I started pulling baggies of noodles out of the box. And kept pulling baggies of noodles out of the box. All that was in the box was baggies of noodles. One pound of noodles in each bag, twenty bags in all. Of little flippin' noodles! What in the h@*! am I going to do with all these stupid short noodles? It's not like we go through a ton of pasta now that it's usually just DH and I eating at home. And this size and shape of noodle isn't exactly a commonly called for ingredient in recipes.
Twenty pounds! How long is it going to take me to use up 20 pounds of these things? And where am I going to store them? What bug-proof, mouse-proof container am I going to store them in for the eons (noodles do stay good a number of years) it is going to take to eat them up. Because DS2 was only willing to take 4 bags, and that was before I counted them. DS1 politely but firmly declined when I offered to send some home with him (I've been taking the grandkids to school this week, as well as having Toad after school on the mornings he has preschool as well as all day on the days he doesn't have preschool). It would cost too much to mail some to DD2 at college, plus her semester ends in a little over a month. And DD1 currently lives here, so I can't foist any off on her. And, guess what, my local food bank isn't interested in them, thank you!
So, my house is now cluttered with twenty pounds of noodles I have little use for. That was just the beginning of this week which has increasingly tried to bury me. Noodles. Then there was the phone call "Hey, our babysitter is gone on vacation this week; can you take the kids to school in the mornings, pick up Toad from preschool, and keep him with you when he's not in school?". So I've had extra duties there as well as rearranging my schedule at work to line up with having the grandkids daily all week. I have given up any hope of riding my horse until April.
Add to that taking DD1 and her wedding gown to a tailor to have the bustle put in her wedding dress (the wedding is seven weeks from this weekend!!). Because she is teaching full time, the only times she is available for appointments is four o'clock in the afternoon or later. Wednesday was our appointment with the tailor, and since I needed gas for the suburban, and according to Gas Buddy it was nearly a full 30 cents a gallon cheaper in the town the tailor is located than it is near me, I said "hey, let's just take my suburban," planning to fill it up over by the tailor (because a 27 gallon tank fill at 30 cents less per gallon adds up to a handful of cash saved). I didn't count on, roughly 1/4 mile before the tailor, getting a puncture in one of my tires that had me pulling into the parking lot with a rapidly (and loudly) deflating tire. Add one phone call to the insurance company for roadside assistance to my all ready packed schedule. Then wait for their service truck to come and help me put on the spare (which was pretty much rusted into it's little holding bracket under the suburban. . . )
Oh! And I almost forgot about getting a few propane tanks refilled so I can keep boiling sap (because it ran really good over the weekend and by Monday night I had 45 gallons of sap piled up in my garage) and apparently one tank got overfilled somehow and had liquid propane getting in the line, which nearly completely froze the regulator and at one point I had two foot high flames shooting out around my boil pot whenever the gas line sputtered.
I am the god of hellfire. . .
I think I need a vacation. No noodles. No kids. No driving. No sap boiling. Alone. Somewhere warm and sunny. With a book, or knitting, or hey, what about time to actually ride my horse?!?
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