When the Cat's Away...

It seems to me that kids and dads {and mice} get a bad rap about their living habits when the wife and mother goes somewhere for a period of time two days or longer.

For some reason, it's almost expected that these hapless ne'er-do-wells will toss off all trappings of healthy living and shamelessly revel in reckless abandon surrounded by fast-food wrappers and greasy boxes as the individually wrapped sporks and logo embossed napkins pile up haphazardly wherever they fall. {Because, really, is there anyone who knows how to use a spork in a safe, sane and non-embarrassing manner?}

Quite obviously, this onerous belief is a take-it-or-leave-it-truth. 

The mother of my siblings and myself left yesterday evening on a four-day trip to California with her sister and parents. She deserves a vacation and we're all glad she was able to go. Back on the home-front  however, a decision must be made. There are clearly two ways this family can cope with the situation, as outlined in classic literature. {I shall use one writer's example from two different books to delineate my point.}

A. We can eat all the white sugar in the pantry {Farmer Boy - Laura Ingalls Wilder}

B. We can spring clean the house from floor to ceiling {sans spilling stove-black on the floor because, obviously, our stove is stainless steel and doesn't take well to blacking} {Little Town on the Prairie - Laura Ingalls Wilder} 

Translated into our modern lifestyle, the scenarios look something like this: 

A. We embrace the fact that there are vegetables in the refrigerator {not to mention ample ingredients to put together a wholesome and balanced meal} while recognizing that there is no one in the house to insist upon our actually eating them. 

If this course is taken, the shorter the mother's vacation the better.  

B. Thanks to mom's tutelage {and the fact that we're homeschooled} we are all capable of a. cooking a balanced meal, b. ensuring that everyone eats all aspects of the balanced meal and c. using force if need be to ensure that the less appreciated portions of the menu end up in the digestive tracts of the younger siblings as opposed to the floor, garbage disposal or trash.   

If this course is taken, the glow of health and fulfilled responsibility is a pleasant sensation. 

Since mom hasn't gone on a vacation alone in time out of my memory, we naturally went with course A. She had not yet boarded the plane before we'd made a run for dinner. 

The menu until Wednesday reads gleefully like this:

Yesterday night we had Popeye's Fried Chicken. I have no idea if you are familiar with this fast-food chain or not, but they claim to serve Louisiana-style fried chicken. I've never been to Louisiana so I am not an authority. I am also not a fan of fried chicken, but their biscuits are divine golden rounds of hydrogenated fats.
 
Today we're having gyros from the restaurant up the street and tomorrow we're having a slight breakdown and making tacos. Equilibrium is restored with pizza on Tuesday before we go back to normal with the Lent dinner at church on Wednesday.

I hate to limit the fun, but I'm currently working on a portion-control study which is more or less an exercise in trial-and-error. Thus far, I have not noticed many significant changes. That, and I'm slightly suspicious that our bathroom scale is malfunctioning.

 Till next time,