Flying Monkey Bread

As I walked alone through the produce department of my local grocery store (as SLOWLY as possible…because, I repeat, I was ALONE), I just barely heard something from the bottom of my purse whistling The Andy Griffith Show theme song. No tune could better describe the person on the other end of that ringtone, and it always makes me smile to hear it. With his warm Southern drawl, loving spirit, and willingness to live his life in a mental “Mayberry” of sorts, my dad is basically a real-life Andy Griffith. Minus the badge. And the jolly, old aunt who does everything for him.

Because he has my mom for that

(But she’s not old. Just to clear that right up before I get a phone call.)

Interestingly, the ringtone for my mom sounds an awful lot like a smoke alarm. That was actually unintentional. I just haven’t gotten around to programming her favorite song from The Wizard of Oz. No, it isn’t Somewhere Over the Rainbow, though that’s a good guess. Her favorite is that horrible song that always precedes the Wicked Witch of the West. No kidding. I think it’s because all the kids she grew up with said she looked like Miss Gulch when she would ride her bike.

Are y’all as excited as I am about the new Oz the Great and Powerful movie? So. Pumped.

I forgot what I was talking about.

Oh, I was on the phone with my dad talking about nothing at all. Because we usually don’t have much to say. He does an awful lot of breathing into the phone while I do an awful lot of “Are you there? Oh. Ok. Weeeeeeeeell, I guess that’s all that’s happened in the past couple of hours since I last talked to you.”

We talk lots.

And I love it.

I was telling him the riveting story of how I only had to grab a few things from the store since I already had a month’s worth of awesome dinners in the freezer.

This piqued his interest (which is to say a lot for a man whose favorite form of entertainment is Andy Griffith Show reruns).

“So, you actually go somewhere to prepare meals for the whole month?”

“I do. To this place called Dream Dinners. Basically, I choose online from a couple dozen recipes, go to someone else’s kitchen, pretend like I’m Rachel Ray, eat scones and monkey bread while chatting with girlfriends, sneak swigs of the cooking wine, mess up all their dishes, and they follow around behind me and clean up my messes. It’s like every woman’s dream.”

Actually, it is exactly like being a kid.

(Hopefully minus the wine part.)

My dad was pretty intrigued by the idea and asked me to send him a link so he could check out this concept. He was especially interested when I told him that it saved us money in the long run since we had so little wasted food. I thought it was really sweet that he wanted to take some of the financial, meal-planning, shopping and cooking pressure off of my mom until I realized who does the dishes in their household. It’s the same person who does all the dishes in our household:  the man.

Because that was negotiated in our prenup.

As was the millions of dollars worth of inventory I have invested in plastic containers.

Y’all, I am so grateful that my friend Staci introduced me to the concept of meal-planning and prepping outside the home because, to be honest, I had pretty much given up that part of homemaking. When and if I could get the energy to research, shop for, prepare, cook, eat, and clean up a meal, I felt like I deserved the luxury of not having to do that again for a month or two.

WHY can’t everyone just live on protein bars, hot dogs and peanut butter cookies like I do?

(Eww. I’m sad I just told you that.)

Tell me fellow homemakers, what are some of your favorite tips to save time/money/sanity at home?

Seriously, I need all the help I can get.

Note:  This is not a sponsored post, and I have not been compensated to write it. But, now that you mention it, I could totally ask Dream Dinners to pay me in monkey bread. Or tickets to see the new Oz movie. Or both. We could work out a “flying monkey bread” negotiation. I’ll let you know how it goes.