what do spinach linguini, cherry tomatoes, turky kielbasa, leftover marinara sauce, and basil have in common?

they were all part of andy’s pantry week  pasta perfection.

last night’s chef would also like me to mention that he ran six miles on the greenline before he whipped up this tasty assemblage.

for those of you who have lost sleep pondering the fate of our seven cans of pumpkin, you’ll be interested to know that our supply is now down to six and a half cans. i used half a can yesterday to make these starbucks pumpkin scones.

the scones turned out okay, which is to say that my kids loved them. but then again, my kids also love dora gummies and ketchup-covered-quesadillas. i don’t think they taste as good as they look, perhaps because i used skim milk instead of whole milk and a combination of white and wheat flours.

i’m hoping to try a pumpkin soup before this little experiment is over, though i have not excavated the pantry to the point of uncovering any sort of broth, which would be necessary for such an undertaking.

thawing as i type are three more ingredients that are bound for pantry week promised land:

• half a pound of ground beef
• half a pound of ground lamb
• half a pound of ground sausage

what will come of them is anybody’s guess.

the first night of pantry week was so easy and delicious that i caught myself making grandiose pronouncements about adding seven more days to our challenge. time will tell.

i adapted a recipe i found in anne byrn’s dinner doctor, a valuable resource when it comes to making something out of nothing in the kitchen. let me enlighten those who are not yet aware that you can add two eggs, a cup of milk, and a half a cup of bisquick to anything in your fridge to make a pie. it’s genius.

our particular “impossible pie” included half a pound of leftover breakfast sausage (cooked), half an onion and a few cloves of garlic (sauteed), some leftover takeout spinach from pete and sam’s restaurant, mozzarella, and a sprinkling of feta cheese. here’s the formula in case you want to work your own version of bisquick magic:

• mist a 9-inch pie pan with cooking spray.
• layer 1 to 2 cups of leftover meats/veggies in the bottom of pan.
• cover with 1 cup of cheese.
• whisk 2 eggs, 1 cup of milk, and half a cup of bisquick in a bowl and pour into pie pan.
• bake at 400 for 20-25 minutes or until pie is golden brown and firm to the touch.

as i type, andy is rummaging through the pantry planning tonight’s fare. at last count, we have seven cans of pumpkin in there. this could get really interesting, folks.

[source for this post can be found on the bibliography page listed on the sidebar to your right.]

one afternoon last week, when i opened the pantry to get the kids a snack, i was bombarded with an avalanche of chocolate chips, tea bags, pretzels, granola bars, and miscellaneous packets of bakers yeast.

and then, this morning, as i was reaching into the fridge for the creamer, i was met with a hailstorm of blueberries.

hazards such as these can only mean one thing: it is time for a pantry week in our house.

for the next seven days, there will be no meal-planning or food purchasing (apart from a few kid staples, and of course, coffee). andy and i will take turns coming up with creative concoctions with the vast array of random food items crammed into the far corners of our kitchen. so get ready for the cheese-toast pizzas, the bizarre quiche-like entrees, and the breakfast pasta dishes. i’ll be posting about our makeshift meals… the good, the bad, and the ugly.

and now for an update on elvis, the webkinz mountain goat:

elvis lives, despite my best efforts to off him. the plush real-life elvis is quite at home with the monkey and enjoys frequent outings to the park and to his grandparents’ house.

elvis’ web persona is still living the high life in his room with his wet bar, area rug, and cactus. after consulting with some experts (middle schoolers), i learned that the best way to contribute to the demise of a webkinz is to play with it regularly but not to feed it. i have been employing this strategy lately and have even refrained from feeding elvis the jar of pickles i received yesterday just for logging in. however, so far he seems no worse for the wear. suggestions? shouldn’t he at least be getting sick enough to merit a trip to “dr. quack?”

stay tuned…

it finally happened. all of the deadlines that i set for myself to protect me from THE DEADLINE came and went. i left the house sunday morning with barely enough time to get to the church. a trail of index cards and commentaries followed. i would have to finish the sermon (sure to be my all time worst) in the car.

andy drove while i scribbled illegible notes and envisioned myself lost in translation as i cowered behind the pulpit. concentration was elusive as i began to remember, in great detail, the host of things i had forgotten: the scripture reading, shoes, my robe… PANTS! 

andy was on the cell phone attempting to borrow a robe from a colleague when he made the snap decision to take an off-road shortcut. a rocky embankment prohibited us from driving the rest of the way, so the two of us scaled the jagged surface (leaving yet another trail of index cards and commentaries). i had picked the wrong day to go barefoot but if we hurried, there would still time be to make it for my part.

a scary yard dawg and a nagging home owner with a “no tresspassing policy” sent the two of us and my dwindling preaching paraphanalia back to the car, where we peeled out, backtracked, drove slowly through traffic toward the church, and tuned in to the service broadcast on AM radio station 600.

who knew that unspoken anxiety and anger could be transmitted over radio waves? andy and i listened as the congregation organized an impromptu hymn sing while they waited for me. we were stopped at a broken red light. i realized i still had on my pajama top. i had forgotten to brush my teeth.

and then i did what i should have done in the very beginning. i forced myself to wake up. i told the whole dream that it could take its flying index cards and commentaries and board a plane to timbuktu. i packaged up my anxieties over the forgotten robe, shoes, and scripture reading, along with that nagging neighbor and her yard dawg, and i shoved them all off of the rocky embankment.

but as i lay awake in bed, i could not seem to tune out the sounds of AM radio station 600, which was taking a break from regularly scheduled nightmares for a little public service announcement:

the “transportation parade” at the monkey’s school would be taking place in less than five hours. “have you decorated your son’s big wheel?” the announcer chided.

no. clearly i hadn’t decorated the damn big wheel. many thanks to my subconscious for pointing out the error of my ways. and what does it say about me that i just had a full-blown anxiety nightmare over a four-year-old’s school transportation parade?   

now… does anybody know where i can get balloons and streamers at 6:12 in the morning?

when andy left the house last night for a meeting, our evening routine was ahead of schedule. the bird was clean and running around in a diaper. the monkey was in the shower, and i was so giddy at the prospect of having everyone in bed (including myself) by 8:15 that i even found motivation to do the dinner dishes. i am not sure how things devolved so quickly into a scene from the big lebowski.

the bird took a rare break from meddling in the dishwasher (yes, IN) to tell me that he wanted to tee tee in the potty. the fact that he pulled his diaper off and ran toward the bathroom prompted me to take him seriously, even though we’ve got at least six months to go before we re-enter potty training hell. i dangled over the potty for a couple of minutes to no avail. as it turns out, the bathroom rug held much greater appeal. he soaked the area around his feet and then giggled with maniacal glee!

not to be outdone, the monkey, who was cleaning his “stinky parts” in the nearby shower opened the steamy door, jutted out his pelvis, and marked his own territory on the rug. then, he let out his own prideful fit of uproarious laughter.

now i’ve got to schlep this rug into the back yard and hose it down. the bathroom floor with be awfully cold and bare while it’s gone. alas. it really tied the room together.

i added a week’s worth of meals, recipes, and grocery items to my weekly meal plans page located on the sidebar to your right. click on over there for a little of this

and that

last saturday morning i took you on a tour of my sewing room.

i have been sewing for almost four years, which is precisely the amount of time that some version of this mess (on the dining room table, at our old house) has been with me. people stroll through and exit with thread wrapped around their ankles. friends’children come over for play dates and lament to their mommies that they “don’t know where to walk in this room.” loose pins and other boobie traps are obscured by mountains of fabric — fabric that it so fabulous that i cannot bear to throw away even the tiniest scrap.

most people couldn’t live like this for four minutes, let alone four years. but for me, four years was just the right amount of time. and then, suddenly, last saturday, i was over it. not the sewing… THE MESS!

i’ve been hard at work. the reframe people should come shoot a commercial at my house. there were days of plotting, pricing, and sketching. there were manic trips to home depot with two children “driving” the orange plastic cart with steering wheels. there was an entire wednesday spent with children under my feet asking things like, “mommy, did you mean to put that hole in the wall?” then there were many hours of sorting, stacking, discarding, and hanging. and now there is this:

BEFORE

AFTER

let’s look at it again, shall we?  

i am pretty sure that everything is out of kid reach, though time will tell. i can always move things around if need be.

and p.s. — isn’t that a cool rug? i hadn’t seen that long-lost bad boy in ages!

hello, and welcome to my home tour. i think i’ll start by giving your a glance at my sewing room:

oh yeah, i keep forgetting that you’ve already seen my kitchen and my office. we’ve passed that point in our relationship where i can blithely lie and change the subject to cover up my shortcomings. let’s just say that while i dream of the above displayed organization, my reality looks more like this:

it’s not that i don’t have an organizational system. i do actually have shelves and scrap bins, and i even returned everything to their places right before i left for the mountains. it’s just that everything lives within reach of the monkey and the bird, who love nothing more than to float around in vast seas of fabric. the up side is that this meticulous project of dumping, gathering, and arranging occupies the kids for hours. 

i am still plugging away at the re[frame] productivity system for creative people  . my “to do”  list still resides in a cute little box of note cards, my files are still in order, and my office hasn’t been a disaster area in quite some time. clearly the sewing room project is next. i’m thinking pegboards (out of the children’s reach) securing scissors, rotary cutters, and the like. i’m thinking colorful displays of bobbins and thread, elevated just beyond the monkey’s grasp. i’m thinking off-the-floor shelving for the fabric and scraps. this is going to be huge, people.

if any of you crafty types have any tips, pictures, or inspiration to share, bring it on.

the result is going to be sew fantastic.

the nice orderly fabric picture was borrowed from thread on 6th street in tuscumbia, AL.

back in my pre-kid days, i remember feeling completely baffled by some of the time-saving measures taken by a friend, who was working outside of the home, parenting, and pursuing her masters degree. every sunday, for example, she would pour her preschool son’s milk into 14 little containers so as to shave milliseconds from her weekday lunch and dinner prep time. this struck me as the same mentality employed by olympic swimmers, who shave their whole bodies for a swifter glide through the water. i wondered why my friend was making parenting into an olympic sport.

but now that i am a parent, i have a new perspective. i find myself strategizing about how to cut corners. i have yet to fill my fridge with tiny little milk containers but i no longer question my friend’s time-saving practices. as a mom, an employee, and a student, she was triathlete. her life was necessarily one of high stakes and high structure, and if i saw her again, i’d give her a gold medal.

i have been training for my own event over here, and the good news is that my personal record times will not be adversely affected by my ambivalence toward shaving. i’ve been trying to streamline the meal planning and grocery shopping processes that have historically usurped much of my valuable weekend family time.

my friend sarah mentioned in passing several years ago that she has a weekly grocery list on her computer with all of the staples her family needs for a week. i have recently borrowed this idea, and now i simply print up my own such list (diapers, applesauce, milk, detergent, et cetera) before heading to the grocery.

i am also now following my friend tiffany’s lead, and i have compiled several weekly meal plans that work well for our family. so, for example, if sunday morning rolls around and i would rather watch paint dry than spend time planing our meals for the week (which is often the case), i can simply pull out a previously compiled list of tried-and-true dinners complete with its corresponding pre-compiled list of needed grocery items, and i’m good to go. tiffany’s weekly meal plans are seasonal and make use of many fresh ingredients. i guess this is what makes her an olympian and myself just an olympic hopeful.

i would love to hear about the tactics you use to simplify your life. if you are interested in my weekly meal plans, i’ll be posting them soon. just click on the “weekly meal plans” heading located on the sidebar to your right.

[thanks to http://today.msnbc.msn.com/id/35584821/ns/today-today_in_vancouver/ for the olympic curling image.]

my friend and boss, jarad, came up with these few lines the other day. they came just in time to remind me that my work in the home is important. i hope they do the same thing for you.

it doesn’t take a whole village
or a new paradigm
or any other grand thing
to make the world better,
not if the world is sitting across the counter-
brown eyes over scrambled eggs-
looking at you.

(the world happens
just like that.)