Quinoa jumping, and the lunches are easy

Late to the party as usual, dabbling in the cult of Salad-in-a-Mason-Jar. Didn't know this was "a thing." Note to self: Spend more of my life surfing Pinterest.

Coworkers explained to me very slowly and slightly loud, in case I was a deaf elder or foreign speaker, that salads in jars were a make-ahead brown bagging life-changing revolution. Geez, and I thought they'd just melted all their Rubbermaid containers in the microwave.

Lunches. Break room. Tedium. Looming.

Target. Two dollar. One quart. Enlightenment?

If canning jars are the path, I'm willing to layer my ingredients according to the words of the wise who have gone before:  homemade lemon vinaigrette (*bonus pts. for spelling correctly without looking up), then chopped carrots, sugar snap peas, zucchini (*another spelling word), edamame, grape tomatoes, black olives, oven-broiled salmon, quinoa, lemon wedge, lettuce jammed in at the top.

Will I lose points if the Ball jar tips over in my lunch bag? Will Pinterest know I just had that 1/2 cup of quinoa in the back of the cupboard left from some other culinary experiment? How many days before my little apartment stops smelling like smoky broiled salmon? (* if you guessed more than two)

Findings:

1. A quart of salad is a lot of chewing.
2. Salmon is worth the trouble.
3. Dumping a quart of salad onto a plate is a risky business.
4. Tomatoes roll across the floor leaving a vinaigrette trail.
5. Healthy quinoa jumps all over like particles in a physics super collider info-graphic.
6. Clean-up on aisle three.
7. It's okay that I didn't keep all the canning jars from my ancestors' cellars.
8. Looking forward to a boring old ham and cheese sandwich tomorrow.

© 2013-2017 Nancy L. Ruder

Lest we falter in our resolve

I make pretty darn good minestrone soup. Once decades ago when I had to write up personal life goals, I listed "learn to make minestrone soup". Probably not what the counselor had in mind when assigning this exercise, but it was an achievable goal. (The secret is the parmesan cheese rind.)

Achieving that goal continues to bring tasty satisfaction, unlike the New Year's resolution I made to match the plastic food storage containers and their lids. This is the Sisyphusian Rubbermaid resolution that can never really be completed. Still, life requires the repeated efforts.

Did I ever learn to make pie crust? No, but I learned to make savory potpies with refrigerated pie crust dough. Close enough.

As for last December's vow to construct a Lego version of the NYC High Line for my composting worms in 2015, sadly no. It's been a hectic year. The resolution made for some high quality daydreaming, even if the worms did not get an elevated urban park. My grandson is finally old enough for Santa to bring him Legos. That bring joy to his father, and joy to me.

Hereby resolving in 2016 to master the requirements of my new library cataloging job.

• achieve goals and replicate results
• take daily vitamins for the uphill boulder-rolling tasks
• know when close enough is good enough
• know when to take shortcuts
• understand when excellence is the only acceptable outcome
• apply creative approaches to stale routines
• keep whimsy in my mental toolkit
• know when to follow the printed directions and when to design my own tower

And always eat a healthy breakfast!


© 2013-2015 Nancy L. Ruder