I am firm believer in learning from my past mistakes. As a product of the 90’s, I’ve discovered many of my lessons were learned before the coming of Y2K.
For example, I will never ever forego hair product like I did from birth to 6th grade. It does nobody any good except Mark, the slightly smelly kid from my 6th grade English class who nicknamed me “Cloudhead.” Even if he couldn’t see the correct spelling for “enormous” on the whiteboard as a result of my voraciously fluffy mane, he could have politely asked me to tilt my head to the side or something.
This past Saturday, I attended a 90’s-themed birthday bash and was reminded why I will never ever wear cuffed jeans, crochet sweaters and large cloth headbands again. While Jessie Spano pulled them off with sophisticated panache clutching a bottle of caffeine pills, they do nothing to flatter this lady’s figure.
Non-existent chest? Check.
Emphasis on the thighs? Check.
The return of “Cloudhead?” Check and check.
Not even a round of the Macarena could have saved me and my faux pair of Keds from the extra hours of therapy I will need to endure upon remembering the “Cloudhead” episode.
M.T.…you’ve been warned.
Today, I was reminded of another important lesson instilled in me many years ago by Mama Everythingtarian: I will always try my best to use, utilize and eat up leftovers.
When I was a wee lil’ Everythingtarian, I HATED leftovers (I take after Daddy E in that sense).
Twenty-something years later standing in my kitchen debating what to pack for lunch this morning, I realized I’ve come to rely on leftovers as a cost-saving, environmentally-friendly and delicious part of my foodie life. To think I would have ever scoffed at the remnants of a homemade version of The Sandwich That Changed My Life is crazy. Pure crazy.
Because when you layer leftover maple balsamic pears, crumbled goat cheese and roasted butternut squash over crisp baby spinach in your handy salad shaker…
…delicious things can happen.
Or, you can just enjoy your leftovers for dinner the exact same way you ate them the day before, only this time alongside a big bowl of everything-but-the-kitchen-sink veggie soup.
However you enjoy your leftovers, I promise I’ll keep my “Cloudhead” out of it.
Unless you’re wearing cuffed jeans.
Then, I’m definitely blocking your whiteboard.