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It’s 5:45. I guess that means I should start thinking about making dinner. Even though most nights I’d rather wait until Libbie goes to bed so I could have more time to play with her, my stomach does not take well to eating dinner at 8 p.m. Especially since I eat lunch at 11.
The menu plan for tonight says Creole Shrimp and Grits. OK. With Libbie in the sling on my hip (she has decided anything other than us standing up and holding her is unacceptable), I wander upstairs, find the right issue of Southern Living, and turn to the recipe.
Hm. Onions? Green pepper? Tomato paste? It seems that when I made my menu plan out, I forgot to actually look at this recipe. I bought shrimp. And grits. And I have creole seasoning. And somehow I thought that would make the recipe. Oops.
Well, I could make Thursday night’s dinner of the chicken shepherd’s pie…except then I have to make homemade mashed potatoes. And defrost ground chicken. And that sounds like a lot of work. Ergh.
So, I declare, I will go ahead and improvise on the shrimp and grits. Wait, the recipe says I have to cook this 45 minutes. I am HUNGRY! Does! Not! Compute!
Aha! I can make the ham and potato pockets I didn’t make last week! And this week, I actually remembered to buy the potatoes for them!
And then I discover I don’t have any onions. I always have a bag of yellow onions. Always! Sometimes they are rotten and growing new onions out their tops, but I always have some on hand. Dried, minced onion it is.
Just another normal night in the Casa of Crazy. This post-partum brain of mine just ain’t working no more. Oh wait, it didn’t before.
The potato pockets were good, though! A hit with the man, which is always great in my books.