Channeling MacGyver

I went redneck with my lunch yesterday. Or maybe it’d be cooler to say I went MacGyver.

Yeah, that’s it. I totally went MacGyver.

We had fixed Taco Salad for the church youth group Sunday and still had leftovers come Wednesday evening. The nice thing about salad is that, as long as you don’t overdo the dressing or, in the case of taco salad, load up on chips, it’s a fairly low calorie and healthy meal choice. For that reason, I had one for dinner both Monday and Wednesday evenings.

I had nothing planned for lunch the next day and thought, Hey! Taco salad sure would be nice. Problem is that my one little bowl at work isn’t big enough for the mound of lettuce involved. Last time I tried this, I mixed everything in the salad mix bag. That worked ok but those bags are fragile and tend to tear down the side while you are attacking the contents with a fork.

As I was contemplating my bowl-at-work options, it occurred to me that we had purchased one of those big rectangular plastic boxes of 50/50 spinach/spring mix things since we had been buying for a group. There was still some lettuce in it.

Score! I opened the new bag of lettuce and added some to the box. Then I added onions and shredded cheese. The ziploc bag of remaining taco meat was just right for one serving, so I scooted the lettuce/onion/cheese over a bit and placed the bag of meat inside, to be heated up at work. Then I poured some green salsa in a small plastic container, added the Italian dressing to it, placed the lid, and nestled the container into the lettuce. That’s when I noticed that the bag of tortilla chips also held a very meager supply of already-crushed chips. So I rolled the bag up, ignored any concerns about whether the outside of the chip bag was actually clean, and laid it carefully on top of the salad before closing the lid.

Voila! All the ingredients contained inside the box, which I could then eat out of the next day before throwing away. And it’s a testament to how my week has gone that this event caused me as much joy as it did. Sometimes it’s the little things in life.

Maybe all my daughter needs to come out of her One Direction mourning is to eat salad out of a bumpy, flimsy plastic box. Or maybe not. Not everyone can be MacGyver.

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Elite Family Laundry Club

We were away from home for nine days and got back home about midnight Saturday night.  Even though I had done 2 loads of laundry while at my mother-in-law’s house, there was still more to be done when we got home.  So I started a load Sunday afternoon.

And then I joined the elite family laundry club.

I was sitting at the dining room table playing Candy Crush while Hal watched Max Steel, Daddy (our primary driver the day before) took a nap, and the older two hung out at friends’ (that didn’t take long, did it?).  I heard water that didn’t match the tone of the show Hal was watching.  Daddy must be using the hall bathroom, I thought.  The water stopped.  Then it started again.

“Hal? What are you doing?” I asked.

“Watching Max Steel.”

The water stopped.

The water started again.

I got up to investigate and realized the sound was coming from the opposite end of the house.  As I tracked the sound toward the laundry room, it suddenly hit me what I’d done.  I rushed into the room and punched the pause button so the water would stop pumping out of the drain tube onto the window sill and floor.


Yes, I had followed in the illustrious footsteps of my daughter and husband.  Of course, I had a good excuse.  I had spent the last week doing laundry somewhere that I didn’t have to snake a drain hose out a window first.  Then again, they had good excuses too.  The husband rarely does the laundry – that’s my chore.  The daughter rarely does laundry either.  She should do it more often… but she doesn’t.

Ok, I thought. I need to do something about this.  We can’t keep mopping up water with towels and running fans all night.  The real solution would be to fix the drain line for the washing machine.  But I don’t realistically see that happening anytime soon.

So I came up with a solution.2014-08-10 23.27.26

The solution was simple enough: covering the power button with a contraption built from a milk jug cap and some duct tape.  In Sharpee, I drew a red stop sign and wrote “Drain Out Window!”  You can lift the bottom of the button cover to push the button.  The assumption is that this action will be enough of a reminder to check the hose.

I’d like to think I went all MacGyver on this, showing my ingenuity and ability to use materials on hand to solve a problem.  Unfortunately, I think it may be more along the lines of “You may be a redneck if…”

Oh, well.  At least no one is likely to pump the laundry room full of water again.