What's in my pantry?

So, last week I stepped in to the pantry and something smelled - weird! I'm not sure how to describe the smell, but it was definitely "off" and I was certain a culprit lurked in there somewhere. Jeff claimed he couldn't smell it (typical male) and insisted it was my imagination. But I knew otherwise. Which led to cleaning the pantry this weekend. Which led to a bag of potatoes that had gone way past that sprouty stage where they start to spring green things out of their leathery skins. In fact, I am not sure exactly what stage these potatoes were in, but when Jeff removed the offending bag, hundreds of little fruit-fly things escaped and attached themselves to the walls and ceiling of the pantry. As you might imagine, I FREAKED! We sucked them up the vacuum and kept at it until we could see no more. Then, we gutted and organized the contents of the pantry, washed all the shelves, floor and walls and put everything back in. Now, my pantry is SO organized and nice. I know it will last about one more day and then the kids will be back to trash it. To reward ourselves, we went out to eat at The Rock, a local pizza and beer joint. We ordered "Fire and Rain" their "buffalo-style pizza". This pizza was the hottest thing I have ever eaten! The buffalo sauce was toxic, it actually made my lips and tongue go numb with the fire! The "rain" of course, was your choice of drink. Jeff wisely chose beer. I ordered a "Miami Ice". I watched the bartender make it and it seemed like he was a bit heavy-handed on the liquor. Well, let's just say he was! I have never been so "impaired" on one drink! It was all I could do to get home and into bed, where I lay while the room spun around me. I glanced at the clock and realized it was only 8:30! God, is this what it's come to? I'm a 40 year old lightweight who gets knocked on her ass by one drink and has to go to bed by 8:30? Pathetic.

Today we headed out in the a.m. to have breakfast at Denny's and then head to the gun range to shoot shotguns (can you say "redneck"?). After we downed a Grand Slam and a Skillet, we arrived only to find a bunch of old men and their guns and a full parking lot! Damn. No way was I going to attempt to shoot a 20 gauge shotgun in the company of these men. I was hoping for a quiet day where I could make a fool of myself in semi-privacy. So, I opted out while Jeff just couldn't resist having a round of shooting clay pigeons. I don't remember what it was called - skeet or trap or something like that. All I know is they all lined up, and one by one yelled "pull" and attempted to shoot hunter-orange clay disks (please, hunter-orange? When have you ever seen a hunter-orange bird?). Jeff missed a few, but mostly he hit his targets and came away happy. He asked "what do you want to do now?" and I delivered the most dreaded response - "let's go to the craft show". Now, most men will tell you they'd rather poke a hot fork in their eye than go to a craft show, but I figured I just sat around and watched a bunch of guys shoot guns, the least he could do was accompany me to the craft show for an hour. So, off we went. Of course, we "breezed" through the booths (Jeff speed) and then wandered around some shops for a while. Then, Jeff bought me a huge bouquet of flowers and we headed home........where I kept working on finalizing the pantry. Now, I'm matching lids and containers and cleaning off the counters which were covered with crap just last night. If I could just find someplace to store Jeff's bazillion cookbooks..........