Frozen Breakfast Burritos

Most days I have absolutely no idea what to eat for breakfast. Confounding the problem is the fact that I’m not really the type of person to wake up, shower, get dressed, scratch the cat’s head and leave more than enough time to whip up something nutritious for breakfast.

I’m just not that together in the mornings. It’s more like: wake up, hit snooze, Olive jumps on the bed and sticks her nose in my face. Get up, shower, grumble about how I have nothing to wear. Lay on the couch and watch an episode of Grey’s Anatomy on Netflix. Realize I haven’t eaten anything yet and eat the first thing I find. Realize I should have left the house 5 minutes ago and run out the door.

Yeah….

Granola

Granola is a wonderful thing.  For some reason I feel very classy eating granola with yogurt and fruit.  I think it all goes back to Uganda and the Peace Corps.  In my little town the options for eating “Western” foods was severely limited.  Sure there were local eateries claiming to have “American” food, but that typically consisted of some sort of “cheese” melted between two slices of dry, white bread or a mysterious “meat” patty between two slices of bread.

But there was one place, one oasis in my American Food desert.  UCC – Uganda Child Care.  No, not a daycare, but a charity run by a group of Danish (?) people who served absolutely AMAZING food!  Cheeseburgers (with real cheese!), pasta, grilled cheese (and they didn’t even judge when I asked for it with pickles), fruit salad with chunks of chocolate, ice cream (!), and yogurt with granola.  And once a month: a cookout!

Asparagus Ravioli

 

I don’t clean.  I’m not a cleaner and never really have been.

I don’t make my bed each morning.  I don’t mind the washing of the laundry as much as I dislike the folding and putting away of the clean laundry (which usually results in a pile of clean laundry sitting in the basket for several days).  I try to convince myself that the reason I don’t vacuum very often is because the cat (the poor, poor cat) is absolutely convinced that the sole purpose of the vacuum is to eat her.  And I don’t do dishes.  Well, I do the dishes -  but I certainly don’t enjoy even a minute of it.

Parmesan Oven Fries

I love to cook.  I like to think I’m rather good at cooking too.  I can roast the pants off a chicken.  Whip up some amazing pasta in cream sauce {with leeks and sausage, perhaps?}  Scones for breakfast?  Ready in 30 minutes.  My Pinterest is brimming with both sweet and savory food ideas.   I have all these great ideas running through my head at all times too.  From full-scale recipes to inklings of meals inching toward the consciousness.

Then the Problem.