Relocation Rituals: Consuming the Consumables: Oatmeal Reveries

 

Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. Oatmeal and honey. April 2016. Credit: Mzuriana.

I've consumed the candles. 

The other day, I consumed the last of the eye-rollingly good toasted sesame oil. Oi! Yes, that's the one. 

As I wrote this, I'd just finished off my family-size cylinder of oatmeal. 

Mmmm, oatmeal. Hearty, warm, cozy. Easy.

As a child, brown sugar was the oatmeal sweetener of choice in our family. I especially liked when I could capture the small clumps of brown sugar for their added burst of sweet granularity. For me, not to be diluted with milk. 

Some other oatmeal memories

2011: Ethiopia: The Mullet Phase 

2011: Ethiopia: Meltdown in Lalibela, Part 1 (Foreshadowing: "This is the room you give to someone who no longer has the will to live!" Not my finest hour, oh my. But the oatmeal was fine.) 

2013: Rootless Relocation: Consuming the Remains (oatmeal struck off the list)

2016: Lake Atitlan, Guatemala: The Oatmeal 'n Honey Moment

Note: About Ethiopia currently: So much pain, death, fear, uncertainty. It doesn't hit most of our news feeds. I can't include my 2011 posts above, which told of a much different lived experience for me, without acknowledging what is happening in Ethiopia now. As an Ethiopian told me even then: "You can leave Ethiopia any time you want. We cannot."

 

Relocation: The Condiment Rite

Jars, Tsalaskuri, Caucasus Georgia. September 2011.

I know that I am looking toward my next relocation when condiments come to my mind.

About condiments in my refrigerator that I must consume before moving.

Ready for canning. Missouri. October 2010.

The quiet satisfaction of emptying a jar that I will not restock until I arrive at my future destination, wherever that may be.

Last night I consumed the last of my Miracle Whip Light. I use it seldom enough that I won't miss it in the next four months before I depart Tucson. But if I do miss it, I can venture onto the slippery slope of collecting mayonnaise (or mustard or hot sauce) packets from the deli counter of a local grocery store, running the risk of becoming one of the legions who cache clutches of packets in their drawers, refrigerator doors, on shelves and counters, glove compartments, purses ... because.

Jelly jar, El Paso, Texas. December 2016.

Next up: Pickle relish.    

Rootless Relocation: Consuming the Remains

Like many people, I enjoy making lists of things to do and crossing off the items as I do them.

In the context of moving, a subset of list-making pleasure is to consume the remains of commodities on hand before packing up and leaving. Doing this feels good on two levels:

1. Represents micro-closing rituals on life here; and
2. Keeps me portable.

So with about four weeks left in New Mexico, I'm consuming the remains of: 

• Oatmeal  (7 September)
• Tea bags   (4 September)
• Coffee (packed and brought with me)
• Olive oil (gave away)
• Spices (packed and brought with me)
• Canned goods (packed and brought with me)
• Bottle of body wash (27 September)
• Bird seed (to be more clear, the birds are consuming it) (19 September)
• Paper towels (packed and brought with me)
• Toilet paper (timing is important on this one)(22 September)(good thing there are paper towels)
• Scented epsom salts (packed and brought with me)
• Pickle relish (13 September)
• Salad dressing (packed unopened one and brought with me)
• Rice vinegar (gave away)

What should I do with the two containers in the freezer that hold chicken carcasses and the drippings of same? Will I make chicken soup before I go? Haven't figured this out yet. Update: Tossed.

I had some flour and sugar in the freezer. A half bag of white beans. Gave them away a few days ago.

I've got two pairs of trousers that are about ready for disposal. I'll wear 'em and toss 'em during my emigration from New Mexico. Update October 2: Tossed as planned. Ditto for a blouse.

I'll discard a well-used-up kitchen sponge before I go. Done.

This process is so very satisfying.