I've been reading Sunday Scribblings for years--even before I actually had a blog here. I was always too intimidated to post an entry of my own. I write professionally for a living, but I write reports and briefing papers and executive summaries. Facts. Data. Active voice. There is nothing creative about my writing. I am not clever or metaphorical or symbolic. But "Fridge Space" is a topic I can write about because I can tell you the facts, provide you with data.
I have a "Mom Fridge." It is covered with magnets from all my various work trips: the nation's capital, Seattle WA, Portland OR, Atlanta GA, Jacksonville FL, St. Augustine FL, New Orleans LA, Cincinatti OH, Phoenix AZ, Milwaukee WI, Austin TX, Baltimore MD. This summer I will acquire St Louis MO. My magnets hold nothing up, with the exception of the Atlanta magnet which is atop a list of phone numbers--people my kids should call if something ever happens to me. My favorite magnet is one I got on my last trip to Washington. I visited the International Spy Museum and picked out a magnet that contains the words from an actual memo issued by the U. S. Navy back during WWI. It reads: "Beware of Female Spies! Women are being employed by the enemy to secure information from Navy men, on the theory that they are less liable to be suspected than male spies. Beware of inquisitive women as well as prying men. SEE EVERYTHING, HEAR EVERYTHING, SAY NOTHING concerning any matter bearing upon the work of the Navy. Silence is safety."
I'm not sure why I found this to be so amusing. I guess because I like to think of myself as a clever (and dangerous) woman now that I've learned not to put up with anyone's crap anymore. I'm older, I'm wiser, and I have learned that men my age have things to hide and can't be trusted (admittedly, that statement could probably apply to me as well--I have things to hide and can't be trusted, either). My Best Guy Friend told me once, "You know, it took getting divorced for you to finally grow a backbone and learn how to stand up for yourself, but now nobody will ever want you because you are just too bitchy." I laughed and laughed! So be it! (Of course, this is also the same Guy Friend who told me I could only date "much older men" from now on because "women age in dog years." Sometimes I wonder why we are still friends...)
But, I digress...this entry is supposed to be about my fridge.
The inside of my fridge contains certain items that are ALWAYS there--the things I purchase every week at the grocery store without fail: milk, fruit juice, eggs, real butter (no margarine--I do things right), yogurt, tortillas, lunch meat (always smoked turkey, sometimes honey ham), cheese slices, cheddar cheese, broccoli, apples, broccoli-slaw, carrots, green onions, celery, and salsa. And then there are those other staples that I buy every couple of months: mustard, mayonnaise, worcestershire sauce, BBQ sauce, ketchup, soy sauce, raspberry jam, grape jelly, ranch dressing, Italian dressing. Quite boring, nothing unusual or out of the ordinary. The typical American fridge, for the mom who cooks for children who prefer their food to be, shall we say, unadventurous?
I like to think that there are different items in my fridge that are different, now that I'm divorced. There are those exotic purchases I have made that I never would have purchased when I was married: hummus, whole wheat pita bread, hoisin sauce, olive tapenade, funky pasta sauces from Trader Joe's. There is a chunk of gruyere cheese awaiting some homemade French Onion soup. These are the things I buy for myself on the weekends my kids aren't with me, and I can indulge my "inner foodie." My ex was strictly meat and potatoes and ketchup was his condiment of choice. I shopped with him in mind, and fixed what he liked to eat.
The biggest difference in the contents of my fridge are the leftovers. I still seem to cook for four. We never had leftovers before, now we do. They go into small plastic containers and become lunches for me at work. This week's haul: chili beans (pinto beans cooked with a whole lot of red chili powder, cumin, garlic, and onions) and an exceptionally-good pasta dish of my own creation--my attempt at re-creating a favorite dish from the Macaroni Grille restaurant: bowtie pasta with pancetta, grilled chicken, artichoke hearts, and mushrooms in a parmesan-cream sauce. It turned out quite nicely, although, as usual, my children wouldn't eat it because it was way too "adventurous." There is almost always some leftover chicken in a container somewhere. We eat chicken a lot, and I always make a little extra because it can become an entirely different meal with a little planning. Leftover chicken is great for chicken quesadillas--the 5-minute dinner often thrown together on Scout meeting nights, when I only have 30 minutes to feed my children before needing to leave the house again.
The best thing about my fridge is that it is actually rather clean. It's a new fridge, you see. My old, dirty, smelly fridge stopped working last year, and I went out to shop for a new fridge, planning on buying the cheapest, most basic fridge I could find. My mother went with me, though, and she said I should buy the fridge that I really wanted because, after all, I'd probably be living with it for a decade or so. So, I spent $1700 on a fridge with French doors and the freezer compartment on the bottom. It has glass shelves and pristine compartments. It is beautiful and new and represents my newly-found feelings of success about my life. I didn't have to settle for the cheap fridge--I had gotten a promotion and could splurge on getting what I wanted for a change.
And so I keep it clean. I mop up spills and throw out aging leftovers and produce. I arrange everything neatly. I know what's in there. I take care of it and value it because it is one of the few nice, new things I have ever owned. I want to keep it new and beautiful. I want everything in my post-divorce world, to be new and beautiful. First it was a new car, then some new clothes, the the refrigerator. Next it will be a new (and much bigger) house, and then some new furniture. All the choices are mine. I no longer have to "settle."
(And why do we call them "fridges" when the word "refrigerator" does not contain a single "d"?) No wonder people can't spell. None of our spelling rules make any sense.
I have a "Mom Fridge." It is covered with magnets from all my various work trips: the nation's capital, Seattle WA, Portland OR, Atlanta GA, Jacksonville FL, St. Augustine FL, New Orleans LA, Cincinatti OH, Phoenix AZ, Milwaukee WI, Austin TX, Baltimore MD. This summer I will acquire St Louis MO. My magnets hold nothing up, with the exception of the Atlanta magnet which is atop a list of phone numbers--people my kids should call if something ever happens to me. My favorite magnet is one I got on my last trip to Washington. I visited the International Spy Museum and picked out a magnet that contains the words from an actual memo issued by the U. S. Navy back during WWI. It reads: "Beware of Female Spies! Women are being employed by the enemy to secure information from Navy men, on the theory that they are less liable to be suspected than male spies. Beware of inquisitive women as well as prying men. SEE EVERYTHING, HEAR EVERYTHING, SAY NOTHING concerning any matter bearing upon the work of the Navy. Silence is safety."
I'm not sure why I found this to be so amusing. I guess because I like to think of myself as a clever (and dangerous) woman now that I've learned not to put up with anyone's crap anymore. I'm older, I'm wiser, and I have learned that men my age have things to hide and can't be trusted (admittedly, that statement could probably apply to me as well--I have things to hide and can't be trusted, either). My Best Guy Friend told me once, "You know, it took getting divorced for you to finally grow a backbone and learn how to stand up for yourself, but now nobody will ever want you because you are just too bitchy." I laughed and laughed! So be it! (Of course, this is also the same Guy Friend who told me I could only date "much older men" from now on because "women age in dog years." Sometimes I wonder why we are still friends...)
But, I digress...this entry is supposed to be about my fridge.
The inside of my fridge contains certain items that are ALWAYS there--the things I purchase every week at the grocery store without fail: milk, fruit juice, eggs, real butter (no margarine--I do things right), yogurt, tortillas, lunch meat (always smoked turkey, sometimes honey ham), cheese slices, cheddar cheese, broccoli, apples, broccoli-slaw, carrots, green onions, celery, and salsa. And then there are those other staples that I buy every couple of months: mustard, mayonnaise, worcestershire sauce, BBQ sauce, ketchup, soy sauce, raspberry jam, grape jelly, ranch dressing, Italian dressing. Quite boring, nothing unusual or out of the ordinary. The typical American fridge, for the mom who cooks for children who prefer their food to be, shall we say, unadventurous?
I like to think that there are different items in my fridge that are different, now that I'm divorced. There are those exotic purchases I have made that I never would have purchased when I was married: hummus, whole wheat pita bread, hoisin sauce, olive tapenade, funky pasta sauces from Trader Joe's. There is a chunk of gruyere cheese awaiting some homemade French Onion soup. These are the things I buy for myself on the weekends my kids aren't with me, and I can indulge my "inner foodie." My ex was strictly meat and potatoes and ketchup was his condiment of choice. I shopped with him in mind, and fixed what he liked to eat.
The biggest difference in the contents of my fridge are the leftovers. I still seem to cook for four. We never had leftovers before, now we do. They go into small plastic containers and become lunches for me at work. This week's haul: chili beans (pinto beans cooked with a whole lot of red chili powder, cumin, garlic, and onions) and an exceptionally-good pasta dish of my own creation--my attempt at re-creating a favorite dish from the Macaroni Grille restaurant: bowtie pasta with pancetta, grilled chicken, artichoke hearts, and mushrooms in a parmesan-cream sauce. It turned out quite nicely, although, as usual, my children wouldn't eat it because it was way too "adventurous." There is almost always some leftover chicken in a container somewhere. We eat chicken a lot, and I always make a little extra because it can become an entirely different meal with a little planning. Leftover chicken is great for chicken quesadillas--the 5-minute dinner often thrown together on Scout meeting nights, when I only have 30 minutes to feed my children before needing to leave the house again.
The best thing about my fridge is that it is actually rather clean. It's a new fridge, you see. My old, dirty, smelly fridge stopped working last year, and I went out to shop for a new fridge, planning on buying the cheapest, most basic fridge I could find. My mother went with me, though, and she said I should buy the fridge that I really wanted because, after all, I'd probably be living with it for a decade or so. So, I spent $1700 on a fridge with French doors and the freezer compartment on the bottom. It has glass shelves and pristine compartments. It is beautiful and new and represents my newly-found feelings of success about my life. I didn't have to settle for the cheap fridge--I had gotten a promotion and could splurge on getting what I wanted for a change.
And so I keep it clean. I mop up spills and throw out aging leftovers and produce. I arrange everything neatly. I know what's in there. I take care of it and value it because it is one of the few nice, new things I have ever owned. I want to keep it new and beautiful. I want everything in my post-divorce world, to be new and beautiful. First it was a new car, then some new clothes, the the refrigerator. Next it will be a new (and much bigger) house, and then some new furniture. All the choices are mine. I no longer have to "settle."
(And why do we call them "fridges" when the word "refrigerator" does not contain a single "d"?) No wonder people can't spell. None of our spelling rules make any sense.
7 comments:
A new fridge for a new beginning - love it! :-)
Glad you took the plunge with Sunday Scribblings. You needn't be intimidated. Everyone is very supportive.
Great post. You should never be intimidated. Jump in with both feet -- you may just find a you, you never knew existed. I'll be looking for you next week...
Really great post. You are wrong saying you are not a creative writer. This was very creative.
Really good read - so glad I droped by. No 'new man' on your shopping list?
You mentioned no D in refrigerator - why does phonetic have no F?
Yay! I applaud you for getting the fridge you want, and for starting to cook the food you want. All these "new" things are the ways we stake our claim to our new lives. I wish you well in every step. (And it was funny... as I read, i realised I have olive tapenade, I often have hummus... yes, my eating habits have changed.)
Wonderful post! You're creative, welcome!
I wrote about feeling intimidated on my first SS post, just last week. Must be a common feeling? But everyone has been so welcoming and kind in their comments, I was much more at ease this week. ;o)
I just loved your post. Loads of feeling there, and very entertaining to read. Great job!
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