There’s fricken chicken jelly all over my floor!

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Wednesday April 13th, 2011

Oh my fricken gracious!  I’m still finding remnants of chicken jelly in the corners of the grouting in my kitchen.  Correction: the ANTS are still finding remnants of chicken jelly in the corners of the grouting in my kitchen.  Ugh.

Yeah, so, a few days ago I went to pull out some breakfast for my baby girl and found, much to my chagrin, that the only sort of frozen cube in my freezer was the common ice-cube rather than any apples, mango, blueberry, squash, carrots, papaya, etc… all of which are usually sucking up any available space in there. (This is because it is sooooo much cheaper than buying baby food and this way I know exactly what is going into my baby’s body… all goodness. I do a quick cook, puree, then load ’em up into ice-cube trays and freeze ’em so they are available in small quantities anytime I need ’em.) Luckily I had a banana that I pulverized and half an avocado to dice so she could have something to eat and while she was working on that, I decided it was unarguably time to make more.  I also needed to make a new batch of chicken stock so I pulled out two whole chickens I had bought the previous day (and tossed ’em in a pot with the veg) as well as a variety of produce to be made into baby food… and went all ninja on ’em.

After a few hours the stock was cooled, de-fatted, and in the freezer to be used in soup later in the week and I was finishing up the last batch of broccoli/cauliflower baby food (and, might I add, feeling very domestically aloof… almost superwoman-like).  As I shifted the contents of my freezer (which is usually stuffed fuller than my pants at Thanksgiving) to make room for the last tray of cubes, one 3-cup tupperware full of barely frosted chicken stock saw it’s opportunity to avoid a slow delicious demise in some carrot potato soup and, instead, decided to end it all leaping to its death from the freezer shelf onto my hard ceramic floor.  Unfortunately, the only thing frozen about it was the tupperware it was housed in which promptly cracked in two splattering very cold, gelatinous essence of chicken all over my kitchen floor.  I had worked hard on that stock and it cost me money, plus I hadn’t the first clue how to most efficiently clean it off the floor w/o just smearing its greasy goodness everywhere and in total disbelief I uttered the exclamation, “Ugh, there’s chicken jelly everywhere!” and I think I began to cry.

It was an all around bad day, really.  I eventually got the elusive jiggly protein liquid up off my floor.  I mopped as best I could the smeary mess it left behind while fending off a very mobile and very curious 10 month old all the while tears still dripping off my nose.  I found myself asking God why me.  Why God, why!  (Yes, I know, you have my permission to roll your eyes and smirk. But don’t judge me too harshly, I discovered I was a little over emotional and chemically imbalanced b/c the next day I received a visit from “Aunt Dot” for the first time since my daughter was born… which is always a joy – if you know what I mean – and is particularly rough the first time after a baby is born).  Because of all the extenuating circumstances that led me to the jelly clad kitchen breakdown, however, I uncovered some bitterness that has been hiding out, just under the radar.  I found myself criticizing EVERYTHING around me and that usually only happens when I have an unwanted guest, camped out and setting up a block party  in my normally graceful and understanding heart.

So, just like the ants enjoying the smorgasbord I so kindly provided on my kitchen floor, the bitterness eating off my heart needs to go the way of the grave. But man do I hate exterminating!  It’s usually a lot of work and a real pain in my batookus, but let’s face it… sometimes it just needs to be done.  So, a thorough cleaning of my kitchen floor is in order as well as a thorough cleansing of my bitter heart.  Here is where I have turned:

Psalm 139: 23-24

“Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.”

A rather dangerous prayer, really, b/c I’m still to this day not sure I willingly want ANYONE to know the entirety of my heart and every one of my nasty little putrid thoughts.  But to be led in the right Way… yeah, that sound peaceful to me.

As it happens, a hilarious (and much wittier than I) friend of mine here is also doing some “spring cleaning” and I’m so grateful to know someone else is with me in spirit!  You should read his account of our domestic up-keep! I laughed out loud and snorted.  Shh, don’t tell anyone.

Love you,

The Epistolarian

 

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6 responses »

  1. HiCaroline..! siempre disfruto tanto leyendo tu blog, es bueno hacer un alto en nuestras circunstancias y dejar q sea le quien saque lo oculto de nuestro corazon, admiro tanto q en medio de tu ajetreada vida con 2 pequeñitos tengas tiempo de compartir tus experiencias.

  2. That is really cool you write letters.. I love it actually. I’ve never even thought about something like that. Your site is cute and thanks for visiting mine and being a supporter. Without my truly awesome (and I’m not just saying that) fans I wouldn’t have my site. 🙂

    • Thanks Andrea! I just like to share life through letters and since life is so crazy these days and I never mail anything, I thought I’d throw them out into the void and to the people I care about so much!

  3. Where on earth did you ever learn to call it “Aunt Dot”???? I had a very dear great aunt called Aunt Dot, after whom my mother was named, and whose lovely Limoges china I recently inherited, who provided what is probably my favorite chicken recipe ever, which we appropriately named “Aunt Dot’s Chicken”. Can you imagine how many pleasant experiences I had in store for me that you have now blemished with this new unwelcome connotation to “Aunt Dot”?

    Aside from that, great post my dear. And a reminder to do some housecleaning of my own.

    Oh and nice use of my favorite Psalm. I read the first two thirds of that at Nana’s funeral. Because it makes me feel better.

    • Yeah, I know… sorry. I was thinking about it last night and it’s the fault of some ladies in college. I wouldn’t use it but I don’t have many euphamisims for that and didn’t want to start talking about menstrual cycles in the middle of the blog post. It will always be the secondary connotation for “Aunt Dot” for me, the primary being “Chicken!” (Ha! Both of which were mentioned in this post.)

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