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

Sedum and weep

Sedum was already growing on the rock retaining walls when we moved to Eastridge in 1958. My parents didn't have the time, money, or inclination for gardening, although they had a knack for  danndelions and clover. We did have a few sorry, thorny rose bushes baking against the south side of the house, some violets, a pussywillow, and forsythia in early spring. Lilacs, iris, and peonies for decorating graves, and lilies of the valley struggling on the north side were all planted by the original owner of the house  Still, we were a wasteland compared to the gardening neighbors on either side.

One neighbor sneered at our deficiency The other shared their bounty and contagious enthusiasm for flowering plants.

Cuddling

But sedum clung to the rock, flowering and attracting butterflies beside the driveway where we played jacks and hopscotch. At some point I figured out that a straggly bit could be broken off and stuck between the rocks on down the wall, and it would probably grow. Cool! What a hardy, cooperative plant! It preferred crowded spaces and neglect. I've broken off bits from that rock wall in Lincoln and planted it in new cities and states.

Huddled beneath that pineapple planat!

That crazy pineapple plant

  

My mom, Fritzi, with her non-green thumb would have turned 89 this week. How I would love to sit in the shade visitng with her, watching my sons play on her driveway by the old rock wall.

Stonecrop behind the truck

© 2013-2017 Nancy L. Ruder

Evicted

Evicted by Matthew Desmond is the Dallas Morning News Points Summer book club discussion topic. I'm still psyching up for that read. On the other hand, I've done something a great many Americans wish they could do. Yes, I have evicted National Embarrassment from a white house in a muddy swamp. The next time the toilets broke, it was going to be a "cesspool." The eviction wasn't easy. Unfortunately, the white house was bulldozed in the process. Still, it was more fun than dysentery on the Oregon Trail.

In this summer of discontent and chaos, an evening hour spent playing SIMS4 is way more affordable  than therapy.


© 2013-2017 Nancy L. Ruder