Yesterday I joined a few other women for a cook-a-thon. They planned out enough meals for about a month, we prepped and cooked them. Then those meals went into the freezer while we breathed a sigh of relief at not having to make dinner every night for a while. The spirit of companionship was awesome as we sweated and slaved over stove and mixer.
Let me just say two things about that experience, alright? I never thought baking/cooking could hurt me so much, physically (my legs are still sore). And it is so going to be worth it.When Will isn't home we don't eat as well. Admittedly we eat a lot less meat normally, more veggies, but also more corn dog and macaroni and cheese nights. I like to cook, don't get me wrong there, but the girls do not appreciate my mad curry making skills like Will does. I love presenting him with a home cooked meal that rivals, nay surpasses what you would get in most restaurants. I think I am a pretty good cook. (Little gloat there, its not pride though.)
When you are cooking meals for four families, all having more than 2 children (except me) it takes a lot of onions. Seriously, you have never seen the amount of onions that were chopped (via a food processor, thankfully) as were needed for the cooking. See the two white bowls of diced onions below? That was after some were taken out and not including the red onions (only two) that we chopped for chicken sloppy joes. We only used about one bowlful by the end of the day and all were able to take a few bagfuls of diced onions home. (I measured the onions into freezer bags and that bowl, by the end still had 27 heaping cups of onions!)No, the tissues were not there for the crying the chopped onions caused, it was just by chance, but the onions did cause a lot of tears. Did you know if you have contacts onions won't bother you as much? Apparently its true, because the woman in charge of onions wore contacts and she, even though she was sitting with the onions, was not crying as badly as I felt like I was. (And if you are ever upset about something, and don't want to cry about it... do not chop onions because it starts the tears, which are then hard to stop. Just a tip.) Also, after handling that many onions you will smell like onions for a few days, it just happens.
There were, I think, five crock pots filled with tasty meat recipes simmering away. Two of them are pictured at the top. That green one is mine, filled with half the recipe of orange chicken K made. The stainless steel beauty was filled with chicken that would later become the best smelling chicken enchiladas I have ever smelled. (They do not surpass the smell of Karina's Sweet potato and black bean enchiladas, but maybe the girls will like these better.) I am really looking forward to them.
We made many kinds of soup, and so many muffins. We made dough for cinamon rolls, which were rolled by D's husband as we cleaned up and packed up (he rolled them, then froze the raw rolls, which we will later bake.)
At the very end, I realized I had no way to get all of my food home. Luckily D had a few boxes she could part with, to pack up my meals. With my feet aching, and my body exhausted, I went outside to pull my car closer to the house.
When I got into my car it felt strange. I glanced down, and noticed that things were messier than normal, and that the console, where the air conditioner controls are, was ripped off. The cd player was missing its faceplate, but it was still there (unuseable, but not stolen.) Adrenaline pumping and fearful, I drove the car the two houses, got out and shaking uncontrollably told my friends that my car was broken into. The thief had locked the door on the way out of my car, too. Which was strange. But it is obvious which side was used to break in. (The key hole is bent, still useable, but its a little tough to open.)
Earlier in the day I had come out to grab my purse from the trunk. I wanted my camera to take the picture of the bowls of onions. When I went in I noticed that the front passenger door was unlocked. But the inside of the car was not ripped up. I think I had just forgotten to lock it when we got there. I locked that door, and taking my purse inside walked away.
I know I should have called the police. But they hadn't even taken my school books, nor destroyed anything. It was late (9:30pm and we have been there since 8 am.) My girls were done. I loaded up everything and decided to go home. The owner of the house checked his car and it was unlocked. His brand new phone was missing. He did call the cops. But it would take them at least a half hour to get there. I could not keep my girls out.
On the way home I made the mistake of telling Rhayn that the car had been broken into. It made her panic. She was so worried and upset. When we got home, she was scared to go upstairs (we sent Lily to check it out, then turned on all of the lights.)
Last night I felt scared, no violated. I didn't crate Lily, I did make her go into her crate, but left it open, just in case. I am thankful for that silly dog. I knew when we got her that someday Will would deploy and she would be part of my security system. I just assumed I would never really feel that much safer just because of her. But last night, I really did.
If the break-ins had happened on our street, Lily would have barked her head off. She barks as people walk by the house, most of the time we check to make sure it is just someone walking down the street. I know if someone broke into the car, and she was barking her head off at our driveway (which is where his car had been parked) it would have made us check. I feel safer with my Lily dog.
Although I would feel even safer with this pack. Dacheese and I were coming home from a night of Redneck Life at Hairball's house last weekend. We walked into my parents house and out of the back room three BIG, barking dogs come running. Blue and Lily in the front and Bella close behind (she was along for the ride, not really protecting, but added to fright these dogs gave us.) Oh, and Lily is the littlest of them, a sweet little petite pit bull. Blue is a weimeranar, and Bella is a chocolate lab.