I'm an over-cheeser.

It is a very good thing to do one's best to not waste. Not only is it good for the grocery bill, there's a lot less guilt involved. For me lately, every time I throw yet another piece of food away, my mind is churning with, "MORE excess that's just wasted. 25,000 people are dying every day of starvation, and I'm the rich man who just wastes food. For FUN. Ok, not really for fun. But..." And it goes on and on. I'll spare you the full circle. All this to say, for the past few weeks, we've been trying very hard to cut back on wasting food.

Yesterday's dinner on the menu was lasagna. Upon inspection of our cabinets and fridge, I realized I would have to be a bit creative, since I didn't have what I thought. I had about half the meat, a quarter of the red sauce, and approximately 7 bags of various kinds of half depleted cheese. At least I had lasagna noodles. Except they'd have to be boiled in the big pot we have, which was occupied by a bunch of mashed potatoes in the fridge. Also, no more containers to which I could transfer said potatoes. Being the lazy person I am, I decided to just boil the rest of the egg noodles we had and leave it at that. I felt that I was being creative and resourceful.

I had my doubts as I began the layering process. The rest of the bag of egg noodles ended up being a few more noodles than I thought. Egg noodles also don't lay flat. But no matter, I was being resourceful. The oven heated, I stepped back to survey my handiwork. That's when I started writing this post in my head. The gigantic pile looked mostly comprised of cheese. Which is no surprise given what I had to work with. I was slightly concerned about my lactose intolerant husband how it would turn out.

As soon as the timer went off I ran back in to drag the dish out of the oven. It definitely smelled good. Looks...not so much. Scott got home and stared with ever so slightly bugged eyes.
"Ok!" He bravely proclaimed, "Let's...eat dinner!"
We gathered round the table.

All in all, it actually tasted really good. We horked it down as only very hungry people can do and decided it wasn't a disaster after all; although the rest of the evening, Scott definitely didn't want either his affectionate wife or boisterous son coming in contact with his stomach.

So - point of the story? I've decided to use one bag of cheese at a time, to avoid uncomfortable episodes of this nature.

Now I'm going to go get my husband some TUMS. You know. So we don't waste those, either.