We are trying very hard to cut down on eating out. It gets expensive and most of the time we can whip up a great meal that tastes better for a fraction of the cost. We both love to cook but don't quite feel the same way about cleaning up after. And we're bad planners. So when we roll into the house at 7pm and haven't thought about dinner, it's just so easy to get back in the car and go out.

I'm irritated at myself tonight that my sloth and exhaustion got the best of me. Granted, it's been a long week, but I have a whole bunch of fresh basil (cheap at the local asian market!), canned tomatoes and other mixings for a great, simple pasta, risotto or something along those lines. Instead we went out to a local mexican place, dropped fifty bucks on a couple of margaritas and some mediocre food. Tequila was worth it, the pound and a half of cheese in my chiles poblanos, not so much. One of my favorite things about our farm share is it typically guilts me into cooking. The Irish Catholic genes are good for many things, and guilt is high on the list. I look at a big box of veggies that will go bad if not used and I force myself to cook. Or I force my boyfriend to cook. Either way, we're usually happier with our meal, know where it came from, and we save a bunch of cash. I can't wait for June and our first delivery.