Cleaning out the fridge

I just cleaned out my refrigerator and filled up a 13 gallon trash bag, which makes it hard to carry out to the garbage can. Cleaning it and keeping it organized has never been a priority of mine. I usually have good intentions by having the family fridge stocked, but it quickly degenerates into not really knowing what is in there and then I double buy (cream cheese, sour cream, hummus, lettuce)

And speaking of lettuce, I am probaby responsible for wasting more lettuce than anyone I know. I buy it and don't get around to using it all.

I found two half-used containers of Pavillions Tomato-Basil soup, which is so delicious, but I should not be buying in the first place. I think it has about 20 grams of fat.

As I put the spoiled remains of my fridge into the garbage can, such a load was lifted, because I can now see what is left. It is somewhat organized.

Thanksgiving is three days away and the fridge will be overflowing again soon, but at least I'll know it's all fresh.

I love to tell myself, when I am on the verge of being appalled at what I see when I open that refrigerator door, "the most interesting people I know have crammed fridges" and it usually means "good cook" and "foodie". Why just settle on peanut butter (I buy REAL peanut butter-that has to be refrigerated) when you can have almond butter and pumpkin seed butter. How can I limit myself to just one choice?

Clearly having a picture perfect fridge is not a possiblity for me. I could never own one of those awesome glass fronted beauties. Today I am thankful for a cleanish refrigerator and a solid door that hides many of my flaws.

The Horror

I live in Orange County, CA, named for the abundance of the juicy fruit. Even in Riverside, where my mom lives, you drive by groves of oranges.

California is home of the oldest, largest, and tallest trees; home of the Central Valley where agriculture is king, because of the mild climate and long growing seasons. I live in the salad bowl state, lots of floura and fauna.

So imagine my horror when I am checking out at the grocery store and notice the "South Africa" sticker on the oranges I am buying. I had to get clarification from the cashier "Is this a type of orange or where it comes from?" She assured me this is where it was imported from.

I bought them in a state of shock. The idea of buying oranges in Southern California grown in South Africa is so disturbing I actually can only laugh at how crazy it is, for so many reasons.

I guess I am going to buy oranges at my local Farmers Market since the grocery stores can't figure out how wasteful they are. You can't just run to the FM anytime you want though, but maybe planning ahead would be a responsible thing for me to do.