WEEVIL FOR DINNER

I had boiled a chicken and when it was cool I and cut the meat into chunks. I cooked carrots, celery and maybe peas, I don’t remember for sure. I thickened the broth, tasted it and knew it was just right. I put the chunked chicken back in the broth along with the veggies and added boiled noodles. My chicken noodle soup was as good as that served at Heaps, our favorite restaurant.

Gillmore Girl was at Emily’s and wasn’t home for dinner so we ate without her. After we ate, someone noticed weevil sitting on the top of the leftover chicken noodle soup. There were gagging noises made and then much laughter when we realized we had all eaten weevil—they must have been in the bag of noodles. "More protein," someone said, as if that made it all right. More gagging noises and finger pointing and things said, like, "weevil eater," but everyone had weevil-soup-filled stomachs so we were laughing at ourselves, too.

Gilmore Girl was due home in a few minutes. What was I going to do? We had all eaten the weevil, the soup had been delicious and I had nothing else to feed her for dinner. So I did what any woman who lived through the Great Depression would do—okay, I didn’t actually live through the Great Depression but my mother did and I’m nothing if not my mother’s daughter. I skimmed every weevil off the top of the soup and then stirred it up in case any others surfaced. They didn’t, so I was confident I had found them all. Then I warmed the soup and threatened the kids to say nothing.

Gilmore Girl came home and ate dinner. After she was finished I threw the rest of the soup out. It wasn’t until later—much later that I confessed to my daughter. There were more gagging noises and even a little anger, I think, but you know what? She is the daughter of the mother who is the daughter of the mother who lived through the Great Depression and Gilmore Girl is as thrifty as I am—maybe more so—and I think she may have forgiven me by now. We’ll see what she has to say in the comments section.

PS This is not actually a photo of my chicken noodle soup. I pulled this off the Internet. You can tell it's not mine because there aren't any interesting protein bits floating on top.

THE EINSTEIN CLUB, part 3. STUCK ON A FLY STRIP.

We have moths in our house. We've seen a dozen or so in two or three months. I am worried that they are some kind of "grain moth."

I don't want weevils--or whatever the pupa stage of this moth is--in my pantry. And if they ever got in the basement it would not be good.


So, I bought something I would have never thought I would ever need. A fly strip. Yes, I know. Disgraceful, but what do you do? Let one grain moth live and later be faced with the plagues of Egypt.

This happened to a friend of mine. She and her husband teach at BYU. They were taking a group of students to Spain for a semester abroad. They left a clean and tidy house. What they didn't know is that in some product they brought home from the grocery store there was a hitchhiker--a grain moth. Pregnant. They closed the house and in several months, when they opened the door and turned on the lights the whole room took flight--a plague of Egypt.


I have no desire to participate in a plague experiment, no matter how educational and historic.


So, up went two fly strips, one behind the pantry door and one in the basement. The pantry strip caught three moths or maybe three parts of moths. It's hard to tell.


The basement fly strip didn't catch any moths. It did catch something else. Me! Let me tell you, those suckers are sticky! No moth is escaping, unless he leaves his wings behind. I nearly tore the fly trap in half, getting my hair out of it.


I had to go upstairs and wash that part of my hair. And my hands. Again and again. Fly trap goo is stubborn.


So, I went to lunch--I was a few minutes late but she was a few minutes late plus one more minute so I didn't have to explain. I chatted and was charming and never said that I was a fly strip victim. I mean, how embarrassing is that? First, admitting you have a pest problem and then admitting you actually put up a fly strip. And then, admitting it caught you.


Here is why I don't want moths in the basement. I can see I was going to make some serious Chex mix over Christmas. Or some muddy buddies. Now what do I with all that cereal? We don't eat cereal. Anyone think Chex Mix or Muddy Buddies are a stupid thing to serve for Easter? Yah, me too.

And looking at these photos I know I need to clean and organize the basement. I think I will take down the fly strip first. No sense in tempting fate.