Especially mine. Don't get me wrong, he'll eat anything. It's just that he likes himself a little meat and potatoes now and again. Last night I thawed and sliced a frozen grilled chicken breast and threw it on his salad. "There's your meat for the week, honey."
Today he's at a meeting, I've been pin-balling amongst my to-do list items of Craigslist and eBay item listings, correspondence that is long overdue, and cleaning out the pantry and freezer, trying hard to ignore the banter and hype and lust of the Palm Pre that bombarded me from the moment I woke up today from my bloggy and Twitter friends.
Because I really, really want one.
But I really don't need one.
I do need to eat, however, so the good Lord provided a distraction when I found an overstock of garbanzos that literally cried out "Pulse me, blend me, any way you want me..." I've been eating hummus all week since it's a quick and dirty way to eat, so why not continue? No dishes, no prep (well, once, quickly), easy to eat in the car.
Wednesday it was spinach artichoke. I think it's my very favorite. I munched on it the rest of the week.
And after today, I may need a new food processor. (But I still want a Pre).
By noon I had made a yummy chipotle hummus, a fresh lemon hummus, and a roasted pepper/sundried tomato/pine nut hummus masterpiece. I cleaned out the freezer of my frozen pitas and made a boatload of whole wheat and oat bran pita chips. There are neatly labeled containers filling the fridge with four kinds of hummus, two drawers of fresh veggies, and not one smidgen of meat.
When Ron Burgundy returns tonight, he will open the delightfully full fridge and say "Don't we have anything to eat?"
And on the Eighth Day, God created
Tea today: Genmaicha
(Photo: Photobucket, but a Pre would have taken a nice one)