How to Organize a Bottom Freezer
Short answer: No clue.
When the Mister and I were first married, stainless steel refrigerators were just coming into style. Appliances like stoves and ovens, I think, were still white. If they came in stainless steel, they were probably expensive and definitely not included in our new, builder basic 1100 square foot home. We bought a white side-by-side refrigerator, a Kenmore, and for the life of me I can’t remember what we did with it when we moved. We might have given it to a friend.
When we moved to this house, our standard size refrigerator dwarfed the room. We had to buy something counter depth if we planned to use the kitchen for activities like cooking, standing, and opening cabinets. I was thrilled. By God, this time I was going to have a fancy food cooler right off the runway, or where ever it is they reveal newly designed appliances. We bought a stainless steel French door/armoire refrigerator, which we now affectionately refer to as “that thing that blows.”
“Worst decision ever” for short. I’m sure many of you have a similar refrigerator, and I am sure many of you adore your bottom freezer. You’re crazy. Kidding! (AM I?)
Armoire refrigerators look nice. Theoretically, you have more room up top to store large trays of food. It’s nice to have all your food at eye level and if you have a narrow kitchen, like me, the small doors are a must. That said, this fridge gives me the fits.
- The left door never closes. You have to firmly shut the door; swinging it closed isn’t enough. We had to set the alarm to alert us when the door is open after we woke up to a thawed refrigerator one morning. None of the other refrigerators I’ve owned have come with doors alarms. Why? Because the doors shut.
- Although the width up top is nice, the counter depth never allows me to store much. I feel like I am always shifting things around to get a good fit.
- In order to see anything in the fridge or access the food, I have to open both doors. That wouldn’t be a problem if one of the doors shut properly.
- The freezer. My God, the freezer.
The bottom drawer is too deep to remain tidy.
The top drawer? The top drawer isn’t a top drawer. It’s a large basket (with an ice maker) that sits on two ledges. You slide the basket (and ice) along the ledges. No tracks, no rails. Just ledges. It doesn’t take a physicist to realize what will happen to the contents of a large, heavy basket allowed to slide on plastic ledges. The basket swings left or right depending on the hand you use. The contents get jostled. Ice always falls to the floor. Always. It’s a pain. So much so, we never slide the basket out. We just blindly pull out or push in food and ice as we need it. Hence, that mess above.
Which ended up on my counter for a super fast 30-minute purge. That’s the good thing about cleaning the freezer. Once you start, it’s not like you can get sidetracked. You’re working under a time constraint. Which brings me, in a round about way, to what I hate most about bottom freezers.
The gunk that collects at the bottom. Note the ice from the sliding basket.
Yes, all freezers collect gunk at the bottom, even side-by-sides. But with side-by-sides, you need only remove the bottom basket to clean it out.
To clean out a bottom freezer–at least mine–you have to take it apart. That’s exactly what I want to do on a rainy Wednesday. #Sarcasm.
I used a broom to sweep out most of the gunk, which I picked up with a dust pan and tossed. Then I scrubbed down the interior and wiped down the top basket.
I wiped down the bottom basket and door, too. As you can see from the condensation forming, I was quickly running out of time. Luckily, I purged all the food first because putting the refrigerator back together almost killed me. Not physically, but I swear it almost broke me mentally. It was just like putting a drawer back in your dresser, only the drawer is twice as wide, three times as tall, and five times as heavy. Getting both sides on the track = total bear. But I did it!
I put all the fruits, vegetables, and random tub of unopened Cool Whip I do not for the life of me know why I own (must have bought it for a recipe?) in the top basket.
On the left bottom basket I have most of my flour. I have another large bag in a refrigerator in the garage. On the right I keep rice and meats, which I admit look meager. I will also keep chicken carcases there, which I save after roasting and then turn into stock.
Many people buy additional baskets to store foods inside their freezers, but I didn’t do that for a couple of reasons. One, I didn’t want to spend the money. Two, my freezer baskets have sloping sides, so if I bought straight-sided baskets I would not be utilizing all the available space.
I know some of you must be wondering what type of refrigerator I would like. Not the side-by-side. I can’t get anything to fit in those, either. This is going to sound crazy, but I really like the good ol’ fashioned top-freezer models. Of course, Smegs are pretty. But even the basic jobs you get at Sears are great, if you ask me. I have one in the garage, and I get so much use from it. The top freezer is much easier to organize and the fridge cabinet itself is cavernous. I feel like I could store a body in there and still have room for pickles. Something the neighbor with the loud music and even louder dog would be wise to consider.
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An Everlasting Meal: Giveaway!
Remember when I made this the book pick for April and contacted the publisher (actually, the publisher’s publicist) and asked them for copies of the book to give away for book club members? Well, guess what?
They completely ignored me. Didn’t even get a reply email.
Guess what else? Susan G. bought an extra copy of the book and wants to give it away here. I bought an extra copy of the book and want to give it away here. That’s two copies to give away for those of you who would like to read what I hear is an amazing book. A quick reminder, we’ll be discussing this book on Monday, April 30.
There are no rules to win.* Just leave a comment! I’ll announce the winner before the end of the week.
*I shouldn’t have said that. We can only do US shipping so that’s a rule–US residents only. Oh, and minors can’t win so that’s another rule. Two rules. Ugh.
Disordered Eating: a past, a future, and a compendium of resources
This post is sponsored by Chase – a strong supporter of the National Eating Disorders Association
Two weeks ago Chase offered me the opportunity to write about healthy eating and body image in children. It was an opportunity I accepted gladly. I planned and researched and leaned back in my chair, hands behind head. It’s my thinking position.
I sat there, playing with my ponytail, and realized I would have to discuss my own eating and body image history if I wanted to effectively communicate how important this subject is to me, how much it has impacted my life and informs the decisions I have made feeding my children. I became agitated.
I went to the library and checked out twelve books. I came home and avoided them. I opened the first one two days later and started to sweat. I put it down, picked it up. I struggled to read more than a few pages at time. I rubbed my eyes hard enough to see colors behind my lids.
I discovered that my boys are good eaters despite their mother, that what I thought was right was wrong, or at least not great. I decided I am not equipped to write this post. I told my husband that the last two weeks have been hell, that I don’t know what I’m doing, that looking at old pictures and remembering old memories has been stressful and painful. I didn’t want to publish this post.
He said that is probably why I must.
We’ll see.
I was born on November 30, 1972, a petite 6 lbs. 15oz. We moved to the states six months later. I had my father’s curly hair and large eyes, my mother’s full cheeks and pointy chin. I spoke Spanish, then English. I liked dolls.
At age four my tonsils started to swell. I choked on my food and eventually stopped eating out of fear. There is a picture of me at the beach where I am wearing a red bikini, holding a bucket and smiling wide. I’m brown like the shell of a coconut because I lived outside and in the 7os no one used sunscreen. You can count my ribs, all of them. I looked emaciated and frail; strangers thought I was ill. In the first grade I had my tonsils removed to improve my health and weight. The doctors warned my parents to monitor me as far as food went because I would make up for lost time.
I wore dusty rose to my First Reconciliation in the 4th grade. I felt beautiful. I fingered the satin ribbons but was disappointed my skirt didn’t flair when I turned. The pediatrician that year said I was far too overweight, a victim of my tonsillectomy and poor willpower. I heard that and felt fat for the first time. She had ridged nails that ended in points. I noticed that as she wrote out a diet for me. She wore unflattering polyester shifts in loud florals and rested her clipboard on the second roll of fat below her breasts. I noticed that, too. I was 9. It was 1982.
Telling a mother to put an normal-sized 9 year old on a diet is a fabulous idea. It really produces results, too. Maybe not the results you hoped for, but I promise a change in weight is forthcoming! My mom was upset this dress was tight. She felt like a failure, and I did, too. For many, many years I hated this picture. 1983.
I’m on the far right. I can’t explain what is happening with the top of my head. I could be wearing a hat, I could be experimenting with Aqua Net. I can explain the unfortunate hand position. I spotted the camera and was trying to pull down my shorts to hide my legs, which I hated for being big. Now I know they were strong and muscular, all the better to kick in teeth. That’s what I should have done to the boy who called me an ugly, fat whale around the time of this picture. I found him on Facebook. Not impressed. 1986.
There is no greater injustice than to form your body image at the same age you dress for the trends and not for your figure. Then again, I’m not sure anyone looked svelte wearing high-waisted, acid wash z. cavaricci jean shorts. Too many classmates called me fat/chubby/thick/insert-pejorative-here in a way that was supposed to be funny, but wasn’t. 1987, maybe 1988.
I really wanted to be on the homecoming court my senior year in high school, which boggles the mind since I was so shy and introverted I could count my friends on one hand. I was also hoping to make it into the yearbook for something like “Most Attractive” or “Best Dressed” or “Nicest Girl.” They didn’t have “nicest girl,” but if they did I might have won. I think. Who knows. I went on my second diet to increase my odds on any of the above, but it wasn’t enough. I was at tennis practice when I overheard two team members talking about me. They said it was a shame the guys only voted for skinny girls with good bodies because I had such a pretty face. I was a size 8. 1989.
Shortly after that, I started drinking a Big Gulp of diet coke as my lunch. After school I played competitive tennis, sometimes for two hours a day. I got down to a size 2-4, but still wore an 8, sometimes a 10, because the larger sizes hid my arms and legs. I started getting attention from boys. I hated it. I hated that 20 pounds was all that stood between approval and disdain. That didn’t stop me from dating them, of course. My taste in boys was as questionable as my diet. 1990.
I was back to a 6-8 at my brother’s high school graduation. I worried the entire time about my weight. Some studies show that people who are people pleasing, excessively goal-oriented, obsessive, and/or perfectionists are more likely to suffer from eating disorders or disordered eating. You don’t say. 1993.
By my 23rd birthday, I was up to a size 9/10. I still wore large shirts and jackets–a blazer, here–because I thought it better hid my thighs. The same thighs I would love to have now. 1995.
Not long after that, I met my husband. He’s a rail. Always has been. We met at T.G.I. Fridays; he was a bartender. I went back a few days later with a friend to get her opinion, but before she could see him I nearly collided with him on the way back from the restroom. He was rude. I went back to the table and told my friend it would never work out. I could never date a guy with thighs thinner than mine. It worked out. 1997.
That doesn’t mean I didn’t hide behind purses and museum programs every time we took a picture. I’m not a fan of having my picture taken. It’s why you see so few of them my blog, and they are almost exclusively of my face. 1998.
I gained twenty pounds in one month due to a medical condition. I was devastated. 1999.
I could go on with more pictures, but they become increasingly painful for me to see. I gained more weight, and then more. The white knuckle hold I had on restricting my food slipped. And, like the girl without tonsils, I made up for lost time. Then I restricted, then I didn’t. Then I did.
Up, down. Up, down. Up, barely down. Over time, your body gives up on you.
When I laid out all the pictures last week, I couldn’t decide if I wanted to move to a remote island or hide under the covers. It seemed preposterous that someone with such a warped body image and history of disordered eating should write about healthy eating. I’m not an expert, I’m a cautionary tale.
But I’m also a mother, and a smart one at that. People ask me how I got Mikey to read so much and so well, and I always tell them it’s because I model the behavior. He sees me read and believes it to be fun. I think Nicholas will be the same.
If modelling can teach a love of reading, it can also teach a fear of food. I’m not going to let that happen on my watch.
I’ve tried a few things over the last couple of years to help me learn to approach food as a necessity rather than an enemy. Some have worked, some haven’t. Nothing has worked long term, mainly because I haven’t been consistent. I’ve talked to other women and men in a similar position, and they say it gets easier to find time to handle your issues when your children are in school. I’m counting on that.
In the meantime, there are a few things my research suggests I’m doing right. Turns out, in my own crack-pot way, I’ve been establishing some healthy eating patterns in the boys.
- I make one meal. What we eat, they eat. There is no short-order cooking to appease multiple tastes. They can eat from what is available at the table, or they do not eat. The choice is theirs.
- We have a family dinner every night it’s humanly possible. It’s almost always possible.
- We eat healthy foods, and we eat not so healthy foods. I try not to create labels on food, but it’s hard. I’m working on that one.
- We don’t force them to clean their plates. When they are done, they are done. The decision is theirs. They don’t get anything else, though, and we remind them of that before they leave the table.
- We eat a wide variety of food, and I let them help me in the kitchen. The helping takes a back seat during the school year but during school vacations or on the weekend I let them make us breakfast, season our food, etc.
I’ve also learned a few new tricks from Ellyn Satter. Since starting her approach–particularly in regards to scheduled snack times for myself and the boys–I’ve seen both boys graze much less. Also, I’ve stopped worrying about Mikey being too skinny and Nicholas’s sweet tooth. They’re fine.
They’re more than fine.
Organizations
Books on Establishing a Healthy Relationship with Food in Children
- Secrets of Feeding a Healthy Family by Ellyn Satter.
- Your Child’s Weight: Helping without Harming by Ellyn Satter.
- How to Get Your Kid to Eat: But Not Too Much by Ellyn Satter.
- Take the Fight Out of Food: How to Prevent and Solve Your Child’s Eating Problem by Donna Fish.
- Good Girls Don’t Get Fat by Robyn Silverman.
Books for Parents of Children with Eating Disorders or Disordered Eating
- Your Dieting Daughter by Carolyn Costin.
- The Eating Disorders Sourcebook: A Comprehensive Guide to the Causes, Treatments, and Prevention of Eating Disorders by Carolyn Costin.
- 100 Questions & Answers about Eating Disorders by Carolyn Costin.
- Conquering Eating Disorders: How Family Communication Heals by Sue Cooper, PhD and Peggy Norton, RD.
Books on Establishing a Healthy Relationship with Food in Adults
If you believe in a behavioral model
- Intuitive Eating: A Revolutionary Program that Works by Evelyn Tribole.
- When Food is Love by Geneen Roth.
- Breaking Free from Emotional Eating by Geneen Roth.
- Full-Filled by Renee Stephens.
- The Food & Feelings Workbook: A Full Course Meal on Emotional Health by Karen Koenig.
- 50 Ways to Soothe Yourself without Food by Susan Albers.
If you believe in an addictive model
Happy, Happy
I started the week determined to make it great. I’m ending it committed to making the next one even better. These are some of the things that made me happy.
Saturday we ate sushi and watched The Hunger Games, just as planned. I thought it was an excellent movie adaptation and in some ways more suited to 12-year-olds than the book.
I spent three hours gardening in perfect weather last Sunday.
Lunch was a delicious salad on Monday. I ate at home, and I ate healthy food. That always makes me happy, happy.
On Tuesday Nicholas drew a picture of The Lorax.
I found signs of spring on Wednesday. Things really got happy after a book series recommendation.
More book recommending goodness on Thursday by one of my very favorite bloggers. Vampires and zombies in quasi literary fiction? I’m dubious, but intrigued. It’s amazing that two fantasy-ish books would strike my fancy. A year ago my eyebrows would have hit my hairline if you told me I would one day willingly read that genre. The idea was so far fetched, I put it on my life list to force me out of my comfort zone. But, ever since starting PIBC, I have been fearless about reading new genres. In fact, I welcome it heartily. This reminds me of something Andrea said to me at Camp Mighty. I told her I helped plan my high school reunion to get out of my comfort zone. Then later we mentioned a book or something, and I said, “Oh, I read that to get out of my comfort zone.” I must have said something along those lines another time because she looked at me and said, “You know, you keep saying your stepping out of your comfort zone, but maybe it’s the comfort zone that no longer fits you.”
It’s Good Friday today. Happy, happy.
And to those who celebrate, happy, happy Easter, too.
Plants, Always
Saturday was cold and rainy, but Sunday was glorious. I planned on finally potting my cacti this week (eighteen months and two plant-deaths later), but the garden center at Home Depot proved irresistible. I bought one or two or 30 or so items that weren’t on my list.
I’m not the only one obsessed with planting this week. John and Sherry worked on their patio, and The Nester published a micro-series on how to decorate with plants. As for me, I have had a longtime love affair with plants. At one point, I had almost 20 houseplants scattered around the house. Over time, that number dwindled to 4 sad, root-bound cacti. I grabbed one of the lavender pots from IKEA, bought a few succulents, and gave my remaining green friends a new home on the dining table.
The pot is a bit crowded, but I’m hoping everything will grow large enough for me to split and replant.
Next, I did something I’ve been talking about for well over two years, probably three. I bought a fiddle leaf fig tree (Ficus lyrata).
He has a commanding presence.
I’m a little nervous taking care of such a large tree, but I have it in front of two windows where it should get enough light (eastern and northern exposure).
I’m very happy with my new houseplants. I want to buy more.
Moving outside is just depressing, but I have no choice but to show you the before.
I present to you seven years of gardening failure. The planter in the first two pictures receives northern exposure. The three year-old asparagus fern gets plenty of light and because that planter suffers from poor drainage and receives the bulk of the water runoff from the back yard, I water it only during the summer. The planter in the second picture is much larger (twice what you see here) and receives both northern and western exposure. The soil is dryer, more compact. The asparagus fern in this planter doesn’t fair as well from my neglect. Everything I have ever planted over the course of seven years has died.
Gardening is one of the few physical activities, aside from tennis, where I enjoy myself so much that I lose track of time. I don’t have any pictures of me clearing out the planters, but I did. I do have a picture of the asparagus fern root system. I decided to transplant them to the backyard. I split the roots and planted those, as well. I’ll have several more ferns next year if all goes as planned.
I’ve always planted for western exposure in the past, mainly because in my area we have light and heat. This time, I picked shade plants like impatiens, ornamental grasses, and calla lilies. The bird, which reminds me of the Mockingjay from The Hunger Games, is all Nicholas.
I don’t like the xanadu philodendrons the guy at Home Depot convinced me to buy. They look leggy and odd. I might transplant them to the backyard and replace them with Kimberly ferns. I’ve had ferns for three years now, and really wanted something different…but not these giant green tarantulas. The impatiens and calla lilies on the left, where the drainage is poor and the soil swims, are thrilled. They’re out there and loving every minute of it. The lilies and impatiens that receive just a touch of western exposure are not amused.
Come on! What a bunch of wimps. The high this week hit mid 70s. Mid 70s! Just wait until September, sweetheart. I gave everything a good soak at around 4:00pm. I went out shortly after 10:00 pm the same night and the calla lily almost looked normal. I can see this summer will be spent watering the planter on the right.
Not that I’m complaining (too much). I spent six hours gardening, received two spider bites, and annihilated my manicure, but it sure was fun.
- Please link to a specific post, not a general blog address.
- Your post must relate to your efforts to create an intentional home. I have a delete button, and I’m not afraid to use it.
- No links to giveaways, please.
- There are buttons to add to your post or sidebar, too, thanks to the lovely Alex, of Type A Calligraphy. Please link the buttons back to this site.
- Let’s use this weekly link up as an opportunity to gather inspiration and motivation. Click links. Discover new people. Say hi and good job. I know I will.
