So all the girls had a hair appointment scheduled late yesterday afternoon. That left Potato Boy and I home alone to whip up a little something for supper and have it ready for when they got back. I told Potato Boy that if he helped me make it, he could pick what we have to eat. “Steak and potatoes,” he said without hesitation. Why did I even have to ask?

So I grabbed a package of T-Bones from the freezer while Potato Boy scrubbed a few potatoes (and then one or two extra for himself) and threw them in the oven. By the time the girls got home we were ready for them.

Potato Boy's Choice

When I sit down to meals like this, I often think of the people I’ve heard complaining about not knowing where their food comes from. Potato Boy pulled the lettuce, onion, and garlic (in the beans) from the garden about 45 minutes before this picture was shot. The green beans were the last we had in the freezer from our small garden last year. The steak was from a beef raised five miles away by my brother and butchered at the local locker. The only thing that wasn’t local – ironically enough – was the potato. And if we didn’t have a brand new bag of potatoes in the pantry, I would have grabbed the shovel and found out what the potatoes in the garden have been up to since they finished blooming. I’ve got a pretty good feeling at this point that the kiddos won’t have any trouble telling how their groceries are “made” if they’re ever asked.