Dishing it out

menubuttonWe’re entering a season that I really don’t enjoy. Not Spring, but that time of year when Rockford is ridiculously busy at work. We’ll be seeing very little of him over the next two weeks. I know there are still mouths to feed even when he isn’t here for dinner, but I have a hard time making things that require a lot of preparation when he’s not here. I’ve been puzzling over why that is while I’ve been writing this — is it because Poppy won’t eat anything? because Petey isn’t effusive enough in celebrating the food? — and I’ve determined that it’s because Rockford usually does the dishes after dinner, and I hate doing the dishes.

All this is to say: The meals for the next couple of months are likely to be even less work-intensive than usual. And that’s saying something. I’m going to try not to revert to all-frozen-pizza-all-the-time. But I’m not making any promises.

Monday: Grilled chicken.

Poppy is always enthusiastic about grilled chicken when I ask her what I should put on the menu, but she almost always refuses to eat it once it’s in front of her.

Tuesday: Ravioli.

The grocery store we normally go to only had cheese ravioli. When I asked Poppy if she’d like ravioli this week, she leaned into their freezer and said, “Do they have butternut squash ravioli?” I told her we’d make a special trip to the Fancy Grocery for the butternut ravioli. If she wants to eat a vegetable, I will go to great lengths to accommodate.

Wednesday: Scrambled eggs & veggie sausages.

This is one of the few things both of the kids will eat without complaint.

Thursday: Cheeseburgers.

Rockford may actually be joining us for this one.

Friday: Pizza.

I’ve gotten out of the habit of making my own pizzas. I doubt that I’ll get back into it this week.

Yes! We have no banana pudding.

There are certain things that I, as a Southerner, believe that I am supposed to enjoy. Among them: grits, Moon Pies, catfish, barbecue, NASCAR, banana pudding and driving large trucks through mud. Many of those things, I don’t enjoy.* Today, though, I’d like to tell you about one thing in particular that I don’t like: Banana pudding. Specifically, the banana part. I still try to make banana pudding now and then, though, because Rockford likes it and I like him. (I don’t think I’ve ever made the classic Nilla Wafer version, because I find it gross. I do, however, like Nilla Wafers with American cheese, which is the snack my great-grandmother, Granny Frankie, gave me when I was little. And that doesn’t sound even a little bit gross, right? Right.)
Continue reading Yes! We have no banana pudding.

Interview with an allergist

My appointment with the allergy specialist was today. They poked me in the back with 73 tiny needles and then in the arm with 23 small needles. The 23 needles were worse than the 73. They were both less painful than, say, stubbing your toe or stepping barefooted on a Lego, though, so it wasn’t so bad.

The places where they stuck me would, the nurse said, become itchy if there was an allergy to whatever allergen she’d stuck in that spot. I had to wait 15 minutes, and during that 15 minutes there was one little spot on my left side that got really itchy and a large patch in the middle of my back that oh gracious what I wouldn’t have done for a corn cob back scratcher.

The nurse came back and basically said, “Holy guacamole! You’re more allergic to dust mites than anyone else in the entire world. Oh, and hickory trees, too! You’re off the charts!” Which is nice, I guess, unless the charts are the Allergy Charts, in which case: Not so much.

So, yeah. I’m allergic to dust mites and hickory trees. And, to a lesser extent, grass and red maples. While they didn’t suggest that bubble helmet, they did say the next step would be to get a series of allergy shots lasting roughly forever.*

I know forever is a rather long while, but if it makes it so I can breathe? Worth it.

*Also: Change the bedsheets and vacuum more often. And get a special mite-proof cover for the mattress and pillows.