Making meaning of meals

It doesn’t seem like more than a place to sleep — a la a hotel — until you cook there.

I’ve made breakfast and had a salad and hummus. But this was my first dinner at Cathy’s, where I'm house sitting for a while. Sautéed veggies, olive oil and Penzeys Spices French Four Seasoning from friend Tracy on a premade pizza crust. (They were given to me. Didn’t want them to go to waste.)

Cathy has lots in her kitchen, but I couldn’t find a cheese grater or pizza cutter. I made do with a cheese slicer on the side of the wedge of Parmesan. And a fork and knife cut the pizza just fine.

Cathy does have a corkscrew, I believe compliments of community theater. I was working concessions the day she came looking to borrow one. I’m not complaining. That’s a crucial kitchen gadget, and I'm happy to have it. When I stayed at Anita’s, I searched every drawer and cabinet to no avail. Friend debi sent a link explaining some unusual ways to open a wine bottle without a corkscrew. (Shoes? Keys? A wall? Really?) I went immediately and bought a corkscrew. It now sits safely in her utensil drawer, awaiting its next assignment. (Note: If you don't have a corkscrew, go buy one. Don't use a shoe or your keys or the wall. Go and buy one. Sheesh.)

It’s kind of like a challenge or a game to find what you can. Not everyone organizes like me. Sometimes it takes multiple attempts at opening drawers and cabinets before the contents sink into my memory.

If it were truly my place, I’d move stuff. Instead, Instead, I have to remember where it goes, which knob turns the gas on to which burner and where I put things in the fridge. I did clean myself off a whole shelf, but I’m sharing space on a couple others.

It goes back to organization. And ingenuity. No, I’m not a genius for using a cheese slicer. But it’s something.

Bon appetit!