Food deals. And non-deals

Sometimes, a deal is not a deal.

Tuesday, I got a GREAT price on a ham that was bigger than my head. Truly a great price. As in, "What are you doing even THINKING about not buying this?" price.

Why do I do this to myself? Nate and I are the only ones that eat the stuff. so then, after I cut two (quite ample) slices off for supper, Tuesday, I was left with the daunting task (after returning from rehearsal late that night, and watching my pre-recorded House - minus the ads) of cutting all the meat off that bone, and finding places for all the little packages in the fridge and freezer.

And you just KNOW I'm gonna forget that I have that meat stashed away...

*sigh*

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Also, in the "Why do I do this to myself with food" department:

Thursday morning. (ooh, a week ago). Near the end of the kids' Spring Break from school. There's a knock at the front door.

Standing there is one of Skip's classmates. And his mother. She's starting a new career after 16+ years of doing who-knows-what up in The City.

And parked at the curb is a mini pick-up truck with a coffin in the back, and "Horizon Foods" on the side.

Let me show you what I'm goign to be doing...
Such a great opportunity...
Working with my son...
What kind of meat do you eat...?
How about seafood....
This is such a great deal....
You won't be able to resist...
Do your kids eat pizza...?
Here, let's look in the freezer I've got in the truck...

And she talked and talked, and I thought "Surely this *IS* the great deal that she said it was, so I said that I liked Rib-Eye steaks, and Ken would occasionally (like once a month) eat red meat, and then it was a New York steak, and the kids might be tempted to eat the Fajita chicken strips, though they'd rather poke out their own eyes.

Oh, there's a deal if I buy FOUR boxes? Well, the Lemon Chicken looks pretty good. No, I'll stay away from the seafood. Ken's allergic to the preservative in the shellfish.

What? Oh, there's no preservatives in OUR shellfish. It's all flash frozen on the boat.

Really? Let's take a look on the box... See there? Contents: Flash frozen shrimp, SODIUM TRIPOLYPHOSPHATE (as preservative). That is the thing that'll nearly send Ken to the ER. Maybe you should make a note of that, in case you're selling to anyone else that has allergies...

Think of the savings... having everything ready and at hand. Your life will be easier. You can lounge around eating bonbons all day!

Let's just add this up, and see what it is, after I give you the discounts...

Ooh!

NEARLY SIX HUNDRED DOLLARS.....

Excuse me while I go find the smelling salts.

Fortunately, I was able to play the "We just paid the property taxes" card.

Oh, well, then, what if we do "Buy 3 boxes, get 1 free"? That brings your cost down... DOWN to nearly $12/serving. Though that's just for the meat.

*fans self* I don't know about y'all, but when I'm costing out my groceries, I like to do most meals under $2/serving. For EVERYTHING.

So then she played the "Time Savings" card. Think of all the time you waste going to the grocery store!

Sorry. That's my little zen-time. Walking the aisles brings me peace. It's like walking the labyrinth.

Then she pulled out the "Time savings at home" card. How much time away from your family is spent preparing food?

Heh. She doesn't know me very well, does she? If I can't pull together something in under 15 minutes, I just don't do it. And I do it WITH the kids.

So I played the "Power Outage" card. 'You *DO* know that we have extended power outages here during the warm months, don' t you? And I don't know about you, but I'd curl up and DIE if I had $600 worth of meat in my freezer, slowly thawing out and going bad during a hot August afternoon.'

Back and forth, back and forth.

And finally, I just felt sorry for her, and pulled out the cheque-book and snagged a box of the Lemon Chicken Breasts. The cookbook (free with purchase) says that there are 16-18 portions in the box. Even if there *IS* 18 in there, those boobs are still costing their weight in gold. EIGHTY SEVEN DOLLARS? And that's WITH my discounts.

Oh well.

I cooked up our first pair the other night. Yeah, it was fast getting them into the oven. About as fast as if I'd bought fresh in my thrice-weekly Zen-time at Safeway, and tossed some salad dressing on them before popping them in the oven.

But the size? Good golly, Miss Molly! I'd starve. Either that, or I've got some serious learning to do about portion size. (yes, I know that the chicken boobs that one gets at the grocery store are good for two portions. But we don't eat meat every day, so I give us doubles when we do). Five bites, and that boob was gone from my plate.

Oh well, I say.

I'll chalk it up to my Civic and Neighbourly Duty. And I did keep her son off the streets for another day.

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Y'know, there really may be something to this "getting up early" business.

Yesterday, I got up when Ken got in the shower (5:45! Eek!), and by the time six rolled around, I'd emptied all the trash cans in the house, and gotten the trash and recycling to the curb, and put on a load of laundry. By the time the kids were stirring at 7, I'd finished up the song sheets for the Ladies Bible Study later that morning, started another dish cloth, and emptied and re-stuffed the school backpacks. And because I was so on the ball, when Kelly mentioned that she really, REALLY wanted to wear her Hello Kitty pink suede mocassins (that had been broken since September, when the stitching all came undone on one of them), I had time to get some kitchen cotton (for the next dishcloth) in a matching colorway, and stitch up her broken mocassin, good as new.

I tell you, by Eight O'clock, I was Queen of the World.

And by the time I'd finished leading the music at 9:30, and was sitting down to hear my friend talk about John 14, I was ready for a nap. That'll teach me to sit in the front row.

Four words: They Heard Me Snore!

Fortunately, I rallied in time to get the kids, take them for lunch, coach them in tear-jerking commentary inside three Mothers Day cards for Ken's mom, get Skip to his piano lesson, hit the post office, and drive the Ragazzi carpool. Both ways.

Oh, and leftover ham for supper.

What else? I do believe I'm hearing oinking in my sleep.

Oh, and lest I forget:
Shortly after Ken left for work this morning (ie, less than a minute), the phone rang.

It was Ken. He was using his angry voice. I can't remember the last time I heard him use it.

"Someone. Has. Given. Us. Art... A. Lovely. "Fuck. You." On. The. Driveway."

J-jumping! I'm in the club!

After popping into regular clothes, I went out with a bucket and a brush. Fortunately, the 3-foot-tall chalk letters vanished with the liberal attentions of the hose.

Even though it was chalk, it was SO unsettling. Someone had come up our driveway RIGHT to the garage door, and had done their tagging. Although, as I looked at it, it looked like the work of a 15 year old girl, trying out her best "bad to the bone" font. All it needed was a little flower over the dotted 'i'. I suppose I should be glad that they ran out of chalk before adding "shit" to the artwork. Though seeing a little flower-dotted-i might've been worth my taking a picture of it.

Guess it's a good thing I didn't leave out the basket of spray paint cans...