• domesticity,  Slow News Day,  Stealthy Spy Cooking

    Spinach Cubes

    spinach cubes

    My life is so boring right now I’m going to blog about making spinach cubes. I know. I hate to blow the air of mystery I have around here but seriously, I’ve got nothin’ going on. It’s just parks and grocery shopping day in and day out. If I’m not counting to one thousand while I push Bug on the swing then I’m probably writing up a grocery list and plotting how I’m going to zig-zag across town getting the best deal on groceries.

    The highlight of my week this week was going to the local Persian market and buying a giant pillowcase-sized bag of raw spinach. I’m not kidding! The bag was so huge I should have taken a picture. I didn’t want a bag that big. I wanted one one-fifth the size but they didn’t have any and the GIGANTIC one was only $3.49. I must have wheeled my rusty metal grocery cart up and down the crowded narrow aisles of that market eight times trying to weigh whether or not I could actually use as much spinach as a small restaurant.

    In the end I decided I could. I figured I’d call up my neighbor and give her some. I’d eat probably a quarter of the bag raw and then cook the rest. Cooking spinach is like some kind of circus show where the clowns pile into an impossibly small car. You can add handful after handful of raw spinach to a boiling pot of water and it just magically disappears. My mom says there is a great debate over whether raw spinach is more healthy than cooked and now I know why. You are probably getting 10 times the amount of vitamins when you eat it cooked simply because it condenses down to such a small size. Five bowls raw probably equals one bite cooked. It’s pretty amazing.

    popeye

    Of course, enjoying cooked spinach is probably key. Which I do. I don’t love it but it’s not bad. I especially like it drenched in lemon juice. Lately, what I’ve been doing with my raw spinach (and the reason I was buying it in the first place) is making smoothies. Cheeky Lotus Shakes to be specific. I don’t know if this diet works. I can’t stay on it long enough to tell you but I can say that I like drinking super-healthy smoothies after I’ve binged on Pop-Tarts for a week. Nothing soothes a bloated tummy and a guilty conscience better than a delicious fruit smoothie packed with ground flax seeds and raw spinach.

    smoothie ingredients

    I know a lot of people will think this breakfast is disgusting and it is if you think about it too hard. But you don’t taste the spinach at all. Everything is sweet. Blended bananas cover a multitude of healthy fibery things. The texture is funny but I’m not one of those people who is bothered overly much by textures. I’m weird that way.

    breakfast

    So that is my breakfast. A smoothie (or shake) and my big cup of coffee. And now you know why I made spinach ice cubes. Because I want to use them in my shakes. I can’t tell you how they tasted yet because today is Pop-Tart day but I’m sure I’ll be able to let you know by the end of next week when my third-of-a-pillowcase-sized bag of raw spinach runs out or gets slimy.

  • Bug

    matchy matchy

    matchy matchy

    I’m standing at the sink doing dishes—my normal morning routine. I’m wearing yesterday’s tank top and my hand-me-down yoga pants that I slept in. My hair is piled on top of my head in a messy bun. I haven’t brushed it since yesterday. I haven’t brushed my teeth either. My apron is wet down the front from the water that splashes while I’m doing dishes. I’m sure I’m hunching over with my usual bad posture.

    I’m so glamourous.

    Bug is off in her room getting dressed. In my mind’s eye I can see her throwing shirts and pants over her shoulder as she looks for the perfect outfit to wear today. I can’t wait to see what she’s going to be today. Will it be seven different shades of red? Her rock-star t-shirt paired with pink socks and her red mary janes? Maybe she’ll be a flower again with her brown velcro runners for the dirt, her green pants for the stem and that old pink t-shirt from Walmart that I can’t stand as the flower. Her outfits always amuse.

    She comes out in a hand-me-down t-shirt from Annalie. It’s yellow and white striped just like my tank top. She has jeans on and they are ill-fitting. The pockets are inside out. She shuffles up to me with a frown.

    “I wanted to match you but my jeans don’t match your black pants,” she says sadly.

    “It’s okay. I’m not going to wear this today anyway,” I tell her. “These are my pajamas.” But she doesn’t listen. She’s off running to her room.

    She’s a fashionista on a mission. She comes back out wearing the black sweats I bought her for her ninja costume last Halloween and a big smile. Now we match she tells me, rubbing the fabric of her pants. We both have soft pants on.

    I look like a slob. We both do. But in her eyes we are wearing the perfect outfit.

    “Nobody will know which one is me and which one is you!” she exclaims and with a hop, she’s off.