| Dear Friends and Family, You know, cleaning out the old refrigerator can be a splendid activity. That�s why I do it so OFTEN . . . I�m like a regular Martha Stewart or Kathy Lee Gifford . . . yeah, I bet old Kathy Lee gives her fridge a good sparkling shine every now and then, with a bounce in her step and a new song gurgling in her throat. So do I. Yep. I strap on my trusty purple polka dot apron and my swimmer�s goggles, arm myself with some liquid cleanser and a scrub brush, and dive right in; the chilly cave full of unknown possibilities and surprises around every corner swallows me whole, like one TASTY piece of USDA Choice Beef. Okay, okay maybe I�m exaggerating just a bit . . . I don�t think I even OWN a scrub brush, let alone know how to USE one!!! But, every now and then, every happy housewife/single Peace Corps Volunteer has to do SOMETHING about the science experiments and living creatures festering in her refrigerator. I admit, sometimes my apartment can resemble a junior high science fair. I find myself constantly winning the blue ribbon for my tests on the affects of days on Bulgarian bread and for my brilliant renditions of the bombing of Hiroshima. Quite often, I find things I never knew I had and have things I never again find. Are you missing a child or that beloved family pet?! They�re in my apartment. Did your grandma tell you she was going to clean her dentures one night and then never return?! Well, she�s here too. Yeah, I seem to collect more junk every day and one day I�m going to be old and cantankerous with purple hair and baggy skin flopping all over the place and I�ll be swimming in a pile of all of my junk. My motto is �creative minds are seldom tidy� and I can safely say anywhere I have ever lived has never lacked for creativity. So, sometimes a little exploring (and throwing stuff out) does the creative heart good. But, I would hate for good junk to go to waste. One woman�s junk is another woman�s treasure. So, when I clean out my refrigerator or my cupboards, I am rest assured to know that my old, decaying food is sure to be dug out of the trash and enjoyed by a hungry Roma person or a ravenous stray animal. But, since bags to put trash in are hard to come by and since the dumpster location makes for a nice hike, why bother with actually throwing old food away? Instead, I have come up with an even BETTER solution! But, all for the sake of the Roma and the stray animals, of course. In the dead of night, I creep stealthily to my balcony or to the little window in the kitchen . . . careful not to make too much noise or to disturb your snoring grandma on the couch. My eyes peek into the black oblivion before me and dart back and forth manically, looking for witnesses that might pull the plug on my kindhearted benevolence. �Aha! No one in sight!� And with one swift THRUST I send that hairy loaf of bread sailing off of my balcony. �Ten points if I land it in that puddle next to the picnic table . . . YES! SCORE!!!� And the soggy ham I made sandwiches with a few weeks ago takes flight and lands with a big KERPLUNK! And then off goes a bruised apple, some leftover spaghetti sauce, some wrinkled potato peels, a lumpy greenish concoction that totally surpasses my recollection. �Bon Apetit!� I cry in my benevolent glee. �Your dinner is served!� �What in the world is THIS?!!?� I wonder as I scoop another victim from the clutches of my refrigerator. I wrinkle my nose, I sniff the mysterious substance, I shrug and chuck it out my kitchen window. �Ahhhhh!� I think I hear a disgruntled Bulgarian man shout as I dart back into the apartment. Now, don�t get me wrong, I hate litter and I would never throw my garbage off of my balcony. Bulgaria already has enough litter, I just toss biodegradable things I�m sure will be eaten by someone eventually. I have one cupboard that I thought I�d faint when I opened it! Talk about science experiments! Long ago (in a galaxy far, far away) it became the tragic abode of several loaves of bread that I kept buying and kept bundling up to save for later, only to forget about them completely until I made the mistake of opening the cupboard one day . . . uhhhh, maybe these green alien life forms should go to the dumpster rather than the dogs! Tonight, I was doing laundry in my ancient Bulgarian model washing machine when I heard a loud CRRAAASSHH from the kitchen. Now, if you�ve ever had the pleasure of knowing a Bulgaria washing machine, you would know that, when they reach their spin cycle, they dance across the kitchen floor like Fred Astaire. My washing machine sits next to my refrigerator and I sometimes find it dancing with the stove, jiving in my bedroom, grooving with my living room couch, etc. And it�s LOUD and it causes the entire apartment to shake when it does its little spin cycle routine. Usually, I have to move everything that�s in the immediate proximity of the washing machine, but tonight I made the mistake of leaving some old peanut butter cookies and leftover spaghetti sauce on top of the refrigerator . . . BIG MISTAKE. I went to investigate the loud CRRAAASSHH and I had the pleasure of finding a white tile floor full of meat sauce and cookie crumbs. So, what do I do?! I merely scooped the cookies and sauce into one big LUMP in the pot, walked calmly to the little kitchen window, and then quickly dumped the pot in one WOOOOOSH to the gaping, drooling mouths of the mangy mutts below. �Bon Apetit!� I called with a sly grin and a benevolent heart. Kathy Lee Gifford, Eat Your Heart Out. Bon Apetit, Chantel Lee Sloan |
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