Cleaning the Refrigerator

     It's that time of year, those halcyon days between the spring semester and summer school, days that should be spent immersed in leisure.  But duty-bound person that I am, I must accomplish, produce, justify myself. So assessing the situation, I decided to tackle a long-neglected chore: I cleaned the refrigerator.
     Most of the time, I operate according to the old adage "out of sight, out of mind." What lies behind closed doors stays behind closed doors.  Nonetheless, I gathered my courage and opened the refrigerator, and the adventure began.
     I faced shelves and drawers laden and almost sagging with food, much of it readily recognizable.  However, some items lurking at the back of shelves had taken on new identities of the black, furry variety. Even some of what appeared "perfectly good" had expired use-by dates and questionable odors.
    Other than procrastination and laziness, there are reasons, if not justifications, for this blatant wastefulness.  First of all, I used to shop and cook for five.  When faced with grocery store aisles and meal preparation for two, I find it difficult to alter the dinner-for-five mindset.
     In addition, Doug and I have different eating styles.  He is a meat-and-fried-potatoes man.  While I enjoy those foods too, I really love fruits and vegetables. Doug, on the other hand, views fruit in a medicinal way, i.e. "an apple a day...."  No other fruits pass his lips unless baked in a pie.  So why do I, knowing that I should buy fruit  for one, purchase bags full of grapes and clementines? I realize that at least half of them will suffer a shriveled, moldy fate.
     Some of the jars and containers in my refrigerator were complete mysteries.  For instance, I found a jar of minced jalapenos. Now Doug nor I neither one particularly care for jalapenos, so why I would buy them is anyone's guess.  I would lay the blame on Doug, but I really don't think he is the culprit.  On his rare forays to the grocery store, the chip aisle is usually as far as he gets, Fritos and bean dip being his idea of pantry staples.  Well I kept the jalapenos.  They looked too good to toss, and who knows?  I just might remember why I bought them.
    Perhaps the most interesting, if in a gruesome kind of way, part of my refrigerator-cleaning effort was the meat drawer.  This is where I store cheese, deli meats, and other cured meats.  Of course, I found the requisite moldy cheese and green-tinged bacon, but the really amazing discovery was a pound package of breakfast sausage that had blown up like a balloon.  I did not realize that sausage could ferment.
    In due time I finished the task, ran the garbage disposal and lugged a large, heavy bag of cast-offs to the dumpster.  Next I have to tackle the freezer, but that is entertainment for another day.
    

High School Reunion

In my part of the country it is the time of year for high school reunions. There is apparently something about spring and the Easter holiday that make us want to socialize with people from our past.  What can I say? It is a tradition like Easter eggs and new clothes.

            In keeping with that time-honored tradition, I recently traveled to my high school reunion.  There were the usual hugs and comments like, “You look good.” Translation: “You are holding up well.” Of course, everyone knows that as Shakespeare would say, “Rosy lips and cheeks within Time’s bending sickle's compass come.”   In fact, since the school closed in 1990, Time’s sickle has been busy amongst the graduates. Everyone is asked to wear a nametag simply because gray hair, absence of hair, extra pounds, and wrinkles tend to obscure identities. The changes are sometimes disconcerting.  When one of my former teachers known for her sense of fashion shuffled in on a walker, I decided that remembering people as they used to be is often preferable to reality.

            After appearance assessment, the alumni get down to reminiscing.  It is funny what people remember and what they forget.  For instance, an old friend asked me who my sixth-grade square dance partner was.  My first reaction was to say, “Did we square dance in sixth grade?”  I remember square dancing in fifth grade, and it was a traumatic experience that I won’t go into here.  So I probably have blocked out any memory of sixth grade dancing.

            The one constant that I have noticed, however, is that regardless of what life throws at people their personalities do not change.  They may mature and grow wiser, but class clowns remain class clowns, shy people remain shy, and charmers will forever charm.  Thus once we see beneath the wrinkles and extra pounds, we are back where we started---teenagers just trying to figure it all out.