It Don't Smell Like Fishies

We have an embarrassing recurring theme in our home lately. . .

We go through milk like crazy in this house. And usually when I get new milk it gets put in the back and the older milk rotates to the front. However, sometimes I have days when I am rushing home from the store and I only have 30 minutes to put the groceries away, pull together a salad for a dinner with friends, and then I remember that I didn't burn a DVD of pictures for a client who is coming to pick them up soon. Yeah, on those kind of nights, sometimes the milk rotation doesn't happen. And sometimes on those nights, the big pack of Gogurts I bought is left behind in the grocery bags with the non-perishables until the next morning. Sigh.

So, a week later, we get around to drinking the non-rotated milk at the back of the fridge and, funny thing, it doesn't taste quite right. As it is the last gallon of milk, we have to get creative for breakfast. We are so dependant on our milk and cereal routine.

This morning (after getting some nice, new milk yesterday) as Sarah walked into the kitchen I told her I left the Honey Bunches and milk out for her (our favorite) and Angela followed up with, "Yeah and it don't small like fishies!"

Yay for milk that don't smell like fishies.

On the same night mentioned above, we received a phone call from our friends we were meeting at Hagg Lake, asking us to bring along some ketchup for the hot dogs. No problem. I grabbed some from our food storage and put it in the van before I forgot.

As we rushed off, I noticed the expiration date on the ketchup was long past. Yikes! Looks like the rotation plan on the ketchup was overlooked at some point too. I decided to open it up and do a smell/taste test. (This is so embarrassing.) It seemed fine. I debated with Vern* what to do. In the end we decided it was fine to use, but our nine year old heard the whole conversation.

We arrived a little tardy to our dinner, but had a lovely evening and BBQ. As we sat down to eat and Sarah watched me put ketchup on my hot dog, she said aloud, "I don't want to go to the hospital, so I'm not eating that ketchup."

Silence.

I wanted to crawl under a rock and laugh out loud at the same time. Ratted out by my nine year old!

Then, a little embarrassed, I laughed as I explained what had happened. We all put ketchup on our hot dogs and we all lived to see another day. Much to Sarah's great surprise.

I promise if you come over to our house to eat, I really do practice safe food handling habits and we will strive to not send you to the hospital.