Showing posts with label Where the Food Goes Other Than My Mouth. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Where the Food Goes Other Than My Mouth. Show all posts

Monday, April 14, 2008

The Pantry Chronicles

No hike this week! It was crazy cold - at least for April - and Chicago Meg's parents were here (they taught us bridge!) so we were all distracted by that. We did go to the Grand Ole Opry on Saturday, where stupid black-toothed Jewel squawked her way through a few songs. Last week it was the Opera. This week it was the Opry. Next week...what? Oprah?

I decided to tackle the pantry. It's been in need of cleaning, thinning and reorganizing for well over a year. So here are some thrilling pictures of that. The first three are the "during." Then the "after." Don't ask me why I have all that Splenda; I have no idea. Perhaps I am planning to give a bunch of mice cancer. YOU'LL NEVER KNOW. But this project ended up involving a hack saw and so that turned out to be a pretty exciting pantry-cleaning, when I got to use the Man Tools. It was harder than a hike and about halfway through it, I thought "I might actually just have to move." But I stuck with it and now it's practically the nicest room in the house.

Then I went to learn bridge and it's HARD and it's NOT COMPATIBLE WITH DRINKING because you have to pay a lot of attention. Chicago Meg's mother threatened me! "I'm GOING TO KILL HIM" was her exact quote. But then, I had just bid "five diamonds and a kitty kat!" or something, so maybe I deserved a little threatening. We'll see if it sticks. I did dream a little bit about it and Project Runway judge Nina Garcia was in the dream criticizing my bridge playing. Chicago Meg's mom and dad brought me what is supposedly the world's best beef jerky - from Smoky Davis in Idaho - so I look forward to the eating of that.

Then this morning the contractor showed up to start finishing the two-year-long bathroom renovation and ha ha ha the brand new upstairs toilet is leaking through the ceiling into my bedroom so now they have to rip out my bedroom ceiling to figure all that out, because if they go through the bathroom upstairs, they'll destroy un-matchable marble tile. I almost fell down laughing. Or crying. Or something. I can't even talk about it really; maybe one day I'll be ready. ANYWAY! Let's look at the pretty pantry to draw our focus! P-r-e-t-t-y. Pretty. No crying. There there. That's a good boy. Sssshhhhh.