I’m going to have plenty of time to baby-sit my grandkids, arriving this fall and winter, as I’ve already finished my spring and fall cleaning. The heat has kept me inside, so I used my pent-up frustration on cleaning out the cabinets and closets.

I’m going to have plenty of time to baby-sit my grandkids, arriving this fall and winter, as I’ve already finished my spring and fall cleaning. The heat has kept me inside, so I used my pent-up frustration on cleaning out the cabinets and closets.


I wonder why they don’t put expiration dates on spices. Surely they don’t stay good forever. Maybe they’ve been in the cabinet so long the expiration date faded away. It’s amazing how many different spices were in the rack, even though I tend to use only a couple of my favorites. I made myself throw most of them away, knowing I’ll accumulate another stash of spices, I’ll never use, in a short amount of time.


The canned goods were gone through and I was embarrassed to find so many were outdated. What a waste of food and money. I must have a bean fetish as there were multiple cans of different kinds of beans that had been pushed to the back of the cabinet, and I continue to buy them.


Two cabinets were full of recipe books. I can sit down and read through a recipe book like it’s a novel. I may not make one single dish from the cookbook, but I could never seem to part with any of them, just in case. What’s even worse, now I search through Internet recipes and so dozens of pieces of paper were also smashed between all the books.


I told myself I would only keep however many recipe books could fit on three shelves.


I felt that was pretty generous, as it adds up to around 30. It took quite awhile, feeling the need to go through each book to make sure there wasn’t a recipe I couldn’t be without. Almost every book had sticky notes, marking recipes I never made. Several hours later I had filled two boxes, which I finally had to take to my car, so I wouldn’t give in and try to make room for them.


I asked the girls if they wanted any of the cookbooks and although they didn’t seem too interested, they did at least look through them. The majority of the ones I kept were Mom’s, as they’re always my go-to recipes with ingredients I am familiar with, plus on many of them, she wrote comments to add a little more of this or a little less of that.


In many of the newer cookbooks I had accumulated, which ended up in the box to be donated, I had never tried any of the recipes. When it calls for an ingredient I have to hunt for in the grocery store or can’t pronounce, it’s never going to become a dish.


My favorite cookbook is one of Mom’s, with both covers missing, pages that are brown with age and curling up on the ends with the standard ingredients like cups of butter and cream, and the calorie count isn’t listed.


The real question here is, with so many recipes to choose from, why do I continue to make the same things over and over again?