Janna and the terrible, no-good, awful, horrible day

I should be happy today.

Today, I finally got to put my family room back in order. The week of Thanksgiving, we sprung a leak in the boys’ bathroom shower. It leaked through the ceiling in the family.

The repair was finally finished YESTERDAY. I know, you’re doing the math in your head right now and saying, “WHAT? That’s 11 WEEKS!!”  Yes. I am aware of that.

This morning, I vacuumed while my Roomba worked her tail feathers off. I made the boys help me move couch, chairs, tables, piano, rug and more chairs back to their original locations. I steam cleaned. I vacuumed some more. I was happy. My family room was back in business. No more piano at the front door. What’s more, the boys are no longer sharing a shower with us. Nothing says fun like having your boys use your special, curly-haired, fancy conditioner…

But I am not. I am mad. I am getting upset over the least little thing and I am about to cry.

What’s wrong with me?

Last night, I cooked a whole chicken my Christmas-gift pressure cooker. I probably won’t do that again, because it was mushy. However, after we ate the chicken that we wanted to, I took the rest of the meat off the bone (I hate that job) and then placed the rest in my stockpot with a teaspoon of vinegar. I even used my meat cleaver to chop the bones so the marrow would escape. I was so Nourishing Traditions.  After bringing it to the boil, I let it simmer away for hours. I was going to let it simmer all night long, but that idea scared me so I transferred the whole thing to the crockpot and let it do what it does best all night long. (Now, if you aren’t singing Lionel Richie’s All Night Long by now, I don’t know what’s wrong with you!)

Just about 30 minutes ago, I carefully strained every last piece of whathaveyou out of the crockpot (it took longer than I thought with the broken bones) and turned off the crockpot so it could cool and I could remove that layer of fat that settles on top.  You see, I have big, big plans for that stock tonight. Or, I did. I was going to introduce my family to Matzo Ball Soup.

When we lived in California in the 80’s, most of my classmates were Jewish. I was able to spend time at their houses, at their grandparent’s houses as well as go to Passover and many, many Bar and Bat Mitzvahs. I am so thankful to have these experiences in my memory bank. At one house, I was able to try Matzo Ball soup for the first time. YUM!  Now, I am bought a Manischewitz box mix, but my plans were to just use the matzo ball mix inside. We were going to have this amazing family moment. It was going to be epic. My oldest would write about it on facebook and we would be the coolest people on the block. Mmm hmmm….

While getting out our other leftovers for lunch, I started looking for my chicken. No where. I asked my three precious angels. They didn’t know where it could be. “Maybe Dad took it” said one. I called Mr. Darcy. He did not take the chicken. I searched the fridge like there were solid gold bars to be found in there. No chicken. I shut the door, then re-opened it as if something might change in my line of vision by that motion. No chicken. I searched the pantry (gross, I know, but I had to see) and the freezer (not there, either).

Our boys have rotating kitchen cleanup jobs. Every week, one loads the dishwasher while another handwashes while the other one puts the food away.  Or something like that. The only conclusion is that one of the boys threw the chicken (several cups worth) in the trash.

I was angry. Then sad. Then anger won. I resisted the urge to yell, but I did manage to let them know how I felt. UGH. I am still mad. They still don’t get it. I hate wastefulness. I also am not fond of knowing that they don’t really care that I am upset. In their minds, they are thinking, “wonder why Mom is so mad about leftovers. She didn’t get this way about the leftover rice…”

I should also take a moment to mention that the table clearer from breakfast threw out my cup of chai latte I was still working on. Grrrr.

I’m done complaining. I am going to gather my boys and read Hinds’ Feet on High Places and pretend the chicken debacle never occurred.  Then we’ll go to basketball practice. Then we’ll eat delicious, nourishing broth.

The end.



4 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. lynn
    Feb 10, 2011 @ 17:10:31

    you can still make matzo ball soup with just the broth…in the “old” days, they could make one chicken last for days! At least the boys are doing the dishes!!


    • Janna
      Feb 11, 2011 @ 17:35:05

      That’s exactly what I did. The boys liked it. Mr Darcy said it would have been much better with some meat in it. He’s so very funny…

      And then I found the chicken the next afternoon. In the cabinet with the Pyrex storage…

      Oy Vay.



  2. Phyllis Wilson
    Feb 19, 2011 @ 11:13:36

    Janna: We know you & your family from Restoration Church. My husband is Don Wilson. At the time we knew you, we were probably involved in Crown Financial Ministries.

    We are older (60s), have no children, and I really enjoy reading “Adventures in Janna Land.”

    Take care. Your sister in Christ, Phyllis


    • Janna
      Feb 19, 2011 @ 16:33:08

      Phyllis –

      Yes! We remember both of you! Thank you so much for commenting and reading the blog. Hope you all are doing well.

      Blessings –



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