the unexpected task

Saturdays are catch-up days around here. The mowing-grass, pick-up yards, clean guinea pig cages, do some extra laundry and tidy the house days. Swish and swipe the bathroom sink, mirror, and floor days. Cook a few meals and put them in the fridge for busy weekdays days.

On that last front, I sent D to the garage freezer to retrieve some frozen Bubba (the name of the beef cow we purchased from Jennifer - it's so trendy-green to meet your meat!). He returned, saying he couldn't find any. This I knew to be inaccurate--we bought a quarter of a cow and I know that what's left of Bubba takes up the entire top shelf. I went out to the garage to prove my dear son wrong...obviously he hadn't looked hard enough.

When I got there, though, I couldn't find any Bubba either--not easily. Apparently someone decided to set up a shave-ice business in my freezer by leaving the door ajar. Here in Western Washington, all that moisture in the air makes great, furry icicles on the freezer coils.

So with a sunny day outside, I decided I had time to unplug, empty, and defrost the freezer. An unexpected task, but necessary if we were ever to locate food to eat from our stockpiles. I loaded the berries into one laundry basket, the corn, fish and chicken into the next, and finally uncovered Bubba from the top. Some parts of Bubba refused to leave the freezer, glued by ice to the coils, fighting for their very... well, if not life, at least avoidance of consumption.
I let them remain for the time being.

Armed with a kettle of boiling water and some crummy towels, I set the hot pot in the freezer to let the kettle do its work while I went back to my Saturday "can we fix it? yes we can!" list.

A. must have thought I had too much to do on my list, because while I was in between cooking a pot roast and cleaning guinea pigs, he took over the defrosting task (thanks!).

Meanwhile, I got two meals prepared: Bubba barley soup with butterhorn rolls, and pot roast Bubba. The butterhorns were a test-drive recipe to see if they'd be suitable to bring to Thanksgiving dinner with the Millers next week. Unfortunately, I let the milk/butter on the stove get too hot, so I think I killed the yeast in the bread dough. The flavor was great; the texture, not so much. (I have yeast bread issues. Successful breads from my kitchen almost always originate with my Breadmaster, rather than my kneading prowess.) Then again, I checked the yeast jar, and the expiration stamp said "SEPT 2008," so I may not have been completely to blame. Verdict: try again. I don't consider any baking project to be beyond my grasp. (Miffed Sniff)

Dinner last night was ground Bubba dolled up with a jar of Trader Joe's Eggplant Caponata (the family says BUY THIS AGAIN), served over linguini noodles. Basically, spaghetti with meat sauce, but oh, the sauce! A. will be near a TJ's tomorrow when he takes S. to choir, so I'll send him with a shopping list.

The evening wore on, and, after getting kids in and out of bathing (D actually went without a fuss), laying out "clothes kids" (making sure we have matching/ironed clothes), and preparing church bulletins for Sunday, I finally got my carcass to bed about 11:45 p.m.

I love my bed. It's a Select Comfort sleep number bed. My number is 40. (This has been an unpaid commercial announcement.) Last night I lay there, relaxing, rewinding through the events of the day.

My heart gave a throb.

Freezer.

So with my husband lightly snoring next to me, I sighed, sat up, and headed back to the garage, where, sure enough--all the berries and meat sat in laundry baskets--a little softer than before, true, but at least not the carrion I would find if I had remembered the following morning.

Bubba bits are back on the top shelf, with frozen veggies and other meats on the second. The berries and a casserole are on the bottom two shelves. All is well, all is refrozen, all is de-iced.

I don't quite know what the moral of this story is, other than if it wasn't on your list, and you start it, you'd better be sure you finish it.