IMG_2443 Thank you, Lean Cuisine! The number of frozen dinners in my freezer is about to multiply and I offer no apologies. In a major effort to get more pleasure in my life, I’ve been re-evaluating priorities and have decided to cut the kitchen detail in half. More ready-mades, fewer Carol-mades. My mind has been there for a very long time, but resolve has lagged.

I’ve laughed like everyone else over the years whenever that classical shot of bachelorhood is shown: A near empty fridge with a hunk of moldy cheese sitting in the middle. And I’m not referring to actual Bleu Cheese. The laugh is on me now because I’m seeing a lot more space in my own refrigerator. At the same time, there’s a lot less room in the freezer due to a growing collection of “Liberation Meals”. Just imagine what life would be like if the only thought you had at 6:00 was which box to open. My heaven!

The biggest glitch with frozen dinners is not enough veggies, but lifting the corner of plastic film to squeeze in frozen peas helps to solve this. Then I often add a salad on the side. This solution isn’t ideal healthwise, but appeasing my brain like this once a week can’t hurt.

Admitting to someone that I don’t like to cook has always been rather cringe worthy. Eyebrows hitch up or subtle little frowns appear. Do people think female babies are born with a special cooking gene hidden in their DNA? I hope times have changed, but men used to think the same way about changing diapers. As if women were born liking poop. Really?

My own mom’s comment when she faced moving into assisted living was “I can’t wait to NOT cook anymore. I’m tired of cooking after 65 years!” No kidding, Mom. I thought she’d be crushed at selling her home, but no. That sort of gave me permission, and I’ve been edging in that direction ever since.IMG_2095 - Version 2

This “car picnic” might have gone too far, however. Here I am, clutching the pieces of our picnic in my fists. Cheese stick in the right one, beef stick in the left. What you can’t see here is us laughing our heads off at the absurdity. I’m lucky for this super flexible man of mine!

It is still safe to come to my home for dinner. It’s not that I can’t cook, I just don’t want to every day.