“I Ain’t No Mother Hubbard”

2 Responses

In the past I have taken you, my loyal blog-followers, to visit various parts of my home. Well, at least a junk drawer in the kitchen and my office. This week I took a look in my cupboard, which is a poor substitute for a pantry.  This one doesn’t even pass for a small closet. However, that nursery rhyme that claims that “…the cupboard was bare…” can never be said about this one. Hence the title.

I don’t know why, but I am often compelled to buy large quantities of things when they are on sale to “take advantage of” the great price, always forgetting that in my little place, there is really no where to store anything.

My first trip to Costco after picking up Black Beauty (my little black convertible “four-seater” – although that is an exaggeration at best; it really only fits two average-sized people and two Cabbage Patch Kid dolls in the back) resulted in complete disaster. I bought my usual piles of paper towels and tissue boxes and heaven only knows what else, went out to the parking lot and then I remembered the faithful SUV was gone.

It was lucky for me that it was a nice day because the only way I could get anything in was with the top down and the small rear seat filled to overflowing. I returned home driving 35 mph (a feat in itself for this Lead Foot) with my flashers on, lest something fly out and cause an accident.

So, because of a lack of any good blog material this week,  I ventured to look into the pantry to see what I’ve been hiding in there. I can always find something amusing just in my daily life.

I have about 16 different kinds of cous cous. Now, I like cous cous, but I can’t remember the last time I made it. Apparently it was a great price if you bought “X” number of boxes, so I did.

Pasta? Fuggedaboutit! There’s no room on the top two shelves for anything but a vast array of macaroni shapes in a very interesting assortment of half-full boxes. Again, it’s on sale, I stock up. One can never have too much pasta.

Then there’s the several boxes of cereal I buy, just in case I want carbs for breakfast. I pulled one out at random and noticed the expiration date on it was sometime mid-2008. There’s a very good possibility that that low-fat granola made the trip from New Jersey when I trekked westward. I guess that should be thrown out, no?

Now I’ve gotten down to the soup shelf. I hesitate to look at the expiration dates on some of these since I think I see a can or two glowing in the back. Nuclear waste perhaps? I like soup. I binge on soup. My version of a soup binge is that I’ll have a can about twice in the course of a six month period. Nevertheless, I am compelled to keep several different types just on the off chance that I’m craving, say, Italian Wedding Soup.

Now “Italian Wedding Soup” in itself brings up an interesting question.

I have been to many Italian weddings and never once have I been served this chicken broth concoction with the tiny meatballs, some type of pasta that looks like large (dare I say it?) cous cous and some indefinable green vegetation which could be spinach. I’ll have to do a little research on that.

Now it’s the coffee/tea shelf.

I am addicted to flavored coffee, but I get bored easily. Since I live alone, I have one of those fancy one-cup coffee makers. It actually cost me $30,000.

How, you ask, in the name of all that is holy, did I pay that much for a coffee maker? Well, instead of doing the intelligent thing and using a 20% off coupon at Bed, Bath and Beyond (which you may recall is my second home) I decided to not spend money on such a frivoulous item and instead used credit card rewards points. It took 30,000 of them to get the darn thing. So, I have boxes and boxes of those little “k-cups” with  a ridiculous variety of flavors from Chocolate Glazed Donut (not especially a favorite of mine) to Yucatan Gold. I am not sure exactly what Yucatan Gold tastes like, but it was on sale, so therefore I bought a box. I’ve now joined a coffee club which discounts when you set up a schedule for delivery. The UPS man will be bringing large cartons of caffeine to my door on a regular basis from now on. I may have to build an extra room on the house to accommodate my spectacular savings.

Last, but not least, is the “Goody Shelf.”

When I began to try to lose weight in earnest, I moved all the cookies and crackers, etc. to the bottom shelf where I will be less likely to see them when I am grazing. That has resulted in two things.

First, I have a number of duplicate boxes of Graham Crackers, Fig Newtons and Triscuits. I tend to shove things in there since it’s difficult to reach and then I think I am out of something and therefore “replace” it.

Secondly, I now find that I spend an inordinate amount of time lying on the floor of my kitchen, checking out what I can snack on since that’s the only way I can see all the way into that shelf.

I wonder if anyone will write a nursery rhyme about a woman who has too much cous cous, not enough space and can be found lying on the floor in her kitchen when craving something sweet?

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2 Responses to “I Ain’t No Mother Hubbard”

  1. joan says:

    You are not alone! I’ll trade you boxes of cake and brownie mix (use by dates questionable but 2010 is popular) for some cous cous. I think the cake mix boxes are a throw back to the days of last minute bake sale cooking. I also seem to hoard packets of just add water pancake mix for mornings when the sleepover guests want mouse shaped pancakes :-D

  2. Roseann says:

    There was a funny lady from Dana Point
    Who had too much cous cous in her joint
    So she’d lie on the floor
    Craving for more
    Sweets to replace carbs she’d disjoint.

    Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. :-)

    Anyway, I own “Scarletta” (little Scartlett), a two-seater BMW, that I love as much as you love Black Beauty. And just the other day, I had to put the top down to bring home carpeting samples on those big black boards (because I don’t even have room for Cabbage Patch dolls).

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