I hate when I do things like this

One of the things I'll occasionally do on a weekend is cook up a big pile of stuff that will later be lunches or dinners for when I'm rushed. Yesterday I went to the grocery store and picked up a huge amount of stuff for making lunches. Five pounds of meat came home with me; I made absolutely sure that I knew what was going to go with each batch, that I had enough spinach, enough spices, enough chili and lemongrass, etc. I got extra spinach just to make sure. There's always something you can do with spinach.

I walked right by the onion. Boy, thought I, do I have enough onion to last me a year. I certainly don't need any onion.

Guess what I'm out of, after cooking only two batches of stuff.
Guess what every single thing I was going to make will need.

Damn.

A normal person, of course, would just go to the grocery store and buy some onion. But I can't do that. I've been on my feet for nearly an hour now. I could keep cooking, by spending much of the time in a tall chair, but I can't go to the grocery store. Not any more. And if I did go, I sure as heck couldn't cook afterward. Those always have to be two separate days. I was so good, making sure I went to the store on Saturday so I could cook on Sunday. But all it takes is one goof.

Right now I hate being me.

EDIT: ladycelia is the bestest buddy in the whole wide world. She's going to bring me three big onions when she gets off work.

Twelve lunches

THANK YOU, ladycelia!

My feet gave out with one batch to go, even though I was cheating by leaning on the counters and by sitting down a lot. But now I can easily make that batch tomorrow night. I've even pre-chopped the onion.

rfrench says I stunk up the whole house. I decline to write what he said after that, but I'll note that my inner eight-year-old boy found it funny and that it was quite uncomplimentary to me. Just for that, I won't share any of my curry with him.* So there.

Life is sooooooo much better than it was this afternoon. Honestly, I think I needed a good cry. Human emotions are seriously messed up. Or maybe it's just me.

As a reward for all my hard work, I think I'll drink this nice glass of very chilled Malvasia Bianca and write about a day and a half worth of NaNoWriMo.

ladycelia rocks.

______________________________________
*He wouldn't eat it for any amount of money.

Date Bar Fiasco

I tried to make date bars from a boxed-up mix thingy when I was maybe six. The box contained a beige powder and a dark brown powder; I was supposed to add, I think, nothing more complicated than water, and then form the resulting things into layers in a square pan and bake them. How hard could it be?

So I add two cups of water to the light beige powder and three tablespoons of water to the dark brown powder...

...oops...

Okay. I know heat helps things dry out, right? Remember, I'm like six. I put the big plastic bowl with the "crust mixture" (now very liquid) on the warm spot on the counter, above the running dishwasher. Minutes pass. No improvement. I put it in the nice warm oven. I smell something funny. I pry the big plastic bowl OFF the oven rack -- thank goodness it hadn't melted through, yet! Eventually I decide there's not a thing I can do but mix both the glops together and make drop cookies.

My dad said he liked them. I think he was being nice.

For years, that bowl had grooves on the underside, from the oven rack.