Menu Plan Monday. Or Tuesday since everyone's probably asleep already.

Why doesn't Crunchy Christian Mom do more memes? Because I'm always too late.

Take, for instance, Organizing Junkie's Menu Plan Monday. Most of the time I don't get my menu for the week written until Tuesday. (I used to shop mostly on Wednesdays.) Or Friday. (After cleaning out the fridge to get ready for our CSA produce.)

But this week, I got it written Sunday night for the whole week! And, I thought, hey! I could actually post this for Menu Plan Monday. Except. I was too busy grocery shopping and doing The Monday Thing to blog. (Don't you all do that, too? Rush around Monday trying to catch up on errands and laundry after a crazy weekend?)

So, here I am, finally ready to post my menu. Thankfully, Laura has it set up automatically, so I don't think I can be disqualified for turning it in late. (Unlike most term papers I've ever written and had to talk my way out of losing major points.)

Monday: (Shoot, I've already forgotten what we ate tonight... Oh, yeah!) Black bean soup (made with tomatoes from our garden -- woo hoo!) and polenta. I was supposed to make a salad, too, but forgot, as usual.
Tuesday: Pasta salad w/baked chicken, tomatoes, zucchini, green beans, and whatever other veggies we have in excess.
Wednesday: Breaded tilapia, green beans, and corn on the cob.
Thursday: Turkey burgers w/swiss cheese, onion, lettuce and tomato, and bbq potato chips. (Yum!)
Friday: Vegan Fourth of July BBQ at our friend's house. I'll probably bake cookies, and bring watermelon.
Saturday: Pasta or pizza w/shrimp, tomatoes, basil and zucchini.
Sunday: Salmon, potatoes, and green beans or zucchini.

I'm also planning to make salsa for snacktime (w/corn chips), zucchini bread for breakfast, and stone fruit cobbler to take to a brunch potluck on the 4th. Hooray for a fun cooking week! (And many thanks to my gracious husband for so thoroughly cleaning the kitchen tonight in preparation. I love you.)

Don't forget to go see what everyone else is cooking!

Psst!

Jena's having another giveaway! Go see!

If only there were a photo to go with this post...

I wouldn't be publishing it.

(Thank you for all the well wishes and prayers for my camera! I believe it's just the flash that's out, so hopefully the camera shop can fix it. In the meantime, I thought I'd share a little story that needs no photo. Or, at least, no photo would be appropriate!)

A few weeks ago we were cleaning up the backyard in anticipation of a playdate the next day. The kiddie pool was pretty gross. Leafy matter from a week's worth of windy days floated on the top, and the bottom was coated in a slimy film from the kids' muddy feet.

But before I could scrub it out and refill it, I had to empty a couple hundred gallons of dirty water onto the lawn. (Lest you concern yourself with wasted resources, I'd been watering the garden with the pool water for 2 weeks, and the lawn needed a good soaking!)

I let as much water out as I could by pushing down on the blown-up sides, and lifting the corner so the water could flow out the tiny valve in the bottom. But it was obvious I needed to leave my old leather garden shoes on the patio, and go in barefoot.

But what about my pants? My long jeans were also splashed, but I didn't want to totally soak them. Neither did I want to go inside with my dirty feet. And I didn't have any shorts that fit anyway.

Fortunately, it was a weekday morning. Our neighbors on the south are my parents, and my mom was over visiting anyway. To the north, on the other side of a 5-foot wall, are three apartments. The back apartment was empty, because our neighbors had just moved out. The woman who lives in the middle was at work, and the front neighbors were out, too.

So, I thought, what the heck. I took off my jeans and tossed them over a patio chair, leaving my knee-length apron over my blouse for modesty, and told my mom to be on the lookout!

Then I got to work, using all my strength and momentum to push and pull the sides of the 6' by 4' pool, slowly but surely sloshing and pouring the water over my bare legs and onto the grass.

The pool was almost empty when I heard a truck engine. A large maintenance truck was pulling down the driveway that runs along the other side of our north fence. It stopped in front of the empty back apartment -- directly opposite where I stood.

Oops. So much for weekday privacy.

I looked around, trying to figure out what to do. My mom was on the patio with my jeans, laughing at me, of course.

I figured that as long as I stayed close to the wall, the maintenance crew couldn't see below my shoulders. I carefully dumped out the last of the water, and propped the pool up against the wall in front of me.

Then I waited until both workers appeared to be inside, and quickly backed away from the wall and across the lawn, grabbed my jeans, and walked backwards up the steps into the house, my mother and I giggling the whole way.

My week, in imaginary photos of appliances.

(Imagine a photo of a microwave with a 1.5 inch triangular hole in the front glass.)

Sometime last week, I discovered that my microwave had a mysterious injury rendering it useless. No one in my household had any idea how the injury was created. Apparently, it was an act of God. (Not to blame You, exactly, Lord, but no one else wants to take responsibility. You know us sinners.)

(Imagine a photo of a cobalt blue Kitchenaid stand mixer, its top tilted oddly forward.)

Several months ago, my mixer started acting funny. As in, wobbling a lot, making miserable noises and bumping the paddle against the bowl until the coating was rubbed off the bottom. Yes, I should have stopped before that point. So much for hindsight.

Sometime this week, I went with my mother to Macy's to look for new mixing bowls, because making pizza dough by hand was more trouble than necessary without a deep enough bowl. And I started dreaming of a new Kitchenaid, maybe in a pretty apple green, with lots of extras... like an ice cream maker attachment, a pasta maker, a grain grinder!

Then yesterday, I noticed an odd smell in the kitchen while my mother and I were cleaning out my pantry and doing dishes, but I didn't know where it was coming from. Then I noticed it much stronger when I came in from watering the garden and Scott had cleaned up after dinner.

It was coming. From. The dishwasher.

(Imagine a photo of 10 feet of counter and kitchen sink, piled with dishes, and an empty hole beneath the counter where a dishwasher used to be.)

This is what my kitchen looked like (okay, still looks like) 24 hours after my 10-year-old dishwasher ran its last cycle last night. I was too busy calling around town asking about dishwasher installation charges to actually wash them by hand. Plus I figured my new Energy Star washer would be much more efficient. (Yes, my crunchy side justified my lazy side!)

After doing some research online, we went to Lowe's to pick up a new, white, Whirlpool 1055XTS. For $348 plus tax. Delivery and installation would have been another $115. More than the Kitchenaid Artisan with an ice cream maker.

(Imagine a photo of a large brown city trash bin.)

Sometime after looking at $400 mixers online, I realized that I never put my wedding ring back on after making pizza dough. When I finally cleaned the counters, it was nowhere to be found. I freaked out, assuming it accidentally was swept up with food debris and put in the compost or trash. But I didn't want to tell Scott until I'd looked everywhere possible. So this morning, right after breakfast, I headed out to the trash bin, terrified that I was too late, and the ring might have been in a bag that was carried away at the last pickup.

I pulled out the fabric from the old trampoline that Scott took apart this weekend. I pulled out the three bags of trash my mom and I cleaned out of my pantry. I got down to the two bags of kitchen trash in the bottom of the bin. The only two bags my ring might be in. I prayed. I reached in past the spiders and maggots, and began to dump out the contents of those bags. No sign of the pizza meal we'd eaten the night I took off my ring. And as far as I could sort...

No ring.

(Imagine a photo of me crying on my mother's shoulder as she assured me that I had what was really meaningful, my marriage.)

BUT. God is good. All the time.

My parents have an extra microwave in storage that we can use.

I finally called the Kitchenaid hotline, and I think I was able to fix it.

We actually had the money to buy the dishwasher, even though it wasn't how we planned to spend it.

And when I tearfully told Scott I thought I'd lost my wedding ring, he reached up onto a bookshelf and pulled it out of the little china jar he'd put it in for safe keeping when he cleaned the kitchen that night.

Hallelujah!

Now, if He would just help Scott install the new dishwasher. He's been working on it for three hours, and it's not going so well. Might have been worth the extra $100 after all.

(Insert truly imaginary photo of a boxy, silver HP digital camera.)

And, Lord, about my camera? I'm not quite sure why it stopped working tonight. But it doesn't look good. I REALLY REALLY want it to start working again.

'Cause I just spent the money I hoped to use on my first digital SLR on a new dishwasher that's driving my husband nuts.

Amen.