Now that you had a second to pick your jaw up off the floor I'll have you know that while I was on TDY I didn't have a kitchen. I had a mini fridge and a freakin' microwave. So my food choices were limited. If I had had a kitchen, I could've cook healthy foods and then maybe I could zip my pants, I mean, I could've grilled some chicken or steamed some veggies or I could've made some…okay, who am I kidding, I wouldn't've cooked shit. I suck at cooking. I can't even cook spaghetti noodles right. I didn't even figure out how to make ice until l I was about 10 - I always thought it just came out of the door of refrigerators, I mean, that's how it was in our house growing up. But then, one summer while visiting my mother's family in Ohio, my grandmother rocked my world when she handed me this rectangular shaped plastic object with these strange indentions in it, "Make some more ice please" she said to me as she continued with what she was doing. I stood there. Confused. Not even reaching for the foreign looking plastic tray she held out towards me. I suppose my parents spoiled us a bit, perhaps without even realizing it.
Then there was the time that I went to boil water to make some rice (love me some white rice) and boiled it so long that it evaporated, burned the pot and made my entire house stink.
Or the time my friend Kim was staying the night and we wanted poptarts. I don't like poptarts heated in the toaster, instead, I stick 'em in the microwave for like 5 seconds - absolute perfection I tell ya. So anyway, we put the poptarts in the microwave and me being me pressed that button that just automatically chooses a 'cook time' for you. Well, I didn't stop it after 5 seconds, instead, Kim and I got sidetracked chasing around my cat. When we heard a loud POP we ran to the microwave, the bitch was on fire. And by on fire I mean completely engulfed in flames. No, I'm lying, but when we opened it out poured smoke and the poptart had this little bitty flame on it. My grandmother came to see what all the kamotion was about and easily put out the blaze single flame. "Lorri! You can't put foil in the microwave." Apparently, you're suppose to unwrap the poptart before heating it. Who da thunk it.
Or I could tell you about that time, a few years ago, on Thanksgiving, when I was newly single and couldn't make it home to family for the holiday so it was just me and my brood. My friends had all invited us over to their houses knowing that I don't cook and had never contributed more than boxed macaroni and cheese and a bottle (or 12) of wine to any holiday meal. But I was determined to prove to my kidlets that I could make Thanksgiving awesome all by muh-self. Yeah, I had the attitude of "I am woman hear me roar" as my mother would call it. You shoulda seen me, I was a trainwreck, I had pots overflowing, shit burning, timers going off, cook books covering the counter, two laptops on the counter with allreceipes.com pulled up, potato shavings that didn't quite make it into the trash can on the floor, then to top it all off, I ended up almost chopping off my damn finger at my sad attempt to carve the turkey. Which was ahmaaazing by the way. Go figure. Needless to say, we ended up at friends' houses every holiday after that till we had a cook back in the house ;)
So no, in all honesty, I definitely wouldn't have cooked if I had a kitchen while on TDY. But I like to tell myself that I would have and that I then wouldn't have gained these extra horrid pounds. So I've been on a mission - a mission to get my supa-dupa-sesi beach body back, because shit, I live right across the street from the beach. So I went running yesterday, in the humid ass Florida heat and sun and as I'm going through my gym bag I realize I didn't have my Ipod. How was I suppose to run three miles without music? That's like 25 minutes of torture if I don't have Saliva, Tiesto and Diddy in my ear singing me across my imaginary finish line. I dug, and dug, and dug for my Ipod to no avail. So I decided to use the next best thing - my Iphone. But as I started running my worst fears were realized, my phone is a sensitive piece of shit and kept skipping everytime my foot pounded the pavement. But I refused to take those buds outta my ear, I needed music, even if it was just 5 seconds of a song….skip…..3 seconds…skip…. and right as all the skipping began to get annoying it stopped! Just like that, like it was meant to be, like I was supposed to hear this song, this song that was so meant to be that it didn't skip even though my phone was a piece of shit and my feet were still pounding the pavement. "Do you know the muffin man, the muffin man, the muffin man..." sang a nauseatingly cheery female voice. Yep. That's right, 'Best of Toddler Tunes Vol. 2 ' was playing, my playlist entitled 'Kidlets" had persevered, held strong, and didn't skip like my "RunRunRun" playlist had. And you know, I was so damn scared that if I attempted to change the song that the phone would start skipping again, so, I finished my last 2 miles with "Do You Know the Muffin Man" on repeat. Here's to 'Toddler Tunes!'
Peace & Love,
Lor
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