When Life Gives You Lemons... Squeeze the Sh*t Out of 'Em

Two nights ago, Tiffany picked a squished slice of lemon out of a ziplock bag and held it out between her thumb and forefinger like it was dirty.

"Did you use this and put it back in my baggie?" she asked

"Yes," I answered.

She rolled her eyes.

"What? I thought it probably still had a couple good squeezes in it--enough for tea at least."

By now, Tiffany is used to my bizarre forms of eco-frugality. She knows to check the power surge before she turns on the TV or computer because I've most likely turned it off to save electricity. She knows she'll find my dirty-but-not-dirty-dirty clothes strewn across chairs to "air out" when I think I can get away with another wear before I waste quarters, soap or water in a load of laundry.

And now she knows that I will save a slice of lemon, no matter how smushed, on the off-chance someone else can get a few last drops of juice out of its pulp. (She also knows, coincidentally, to re-use her designated lemon baggie--I hate to waste a gently-used ziplock bag.)

Once I put the left-over rind of a triangle of brie cheese in a tiny tupperware.

"What is this?" Tiffany asked when she was cleaning out the fridge a few days later.

"Oh, I forgot about that!" I said happily, reaching for a single cracker to spread it on. "Want half?"