How many times have you ever looked into your refrigerator and figured if you stood there staring into it long enough, something magical to eat would appear?

We've all done it.

You look in this corner and that drawer knowing good and well nothing new and tasty is in there.

And the fact that I don't cook, due to various reasons, including lack of time, lack of energy and lack of knowledge, doesn't help the overall looks of the inside of my refrigerator.

I still have that college/dorm-room mindset where you look in the fridge and try to think of different ways to concoct some new food item using the condiments present.

(If you've never turned the whipped cream canister up and squirted it directly into your mouth, you should try it sometime.)

A recent visit from my mother confirmed this fact.

&#8220Good Lord, Regina, how long has this been in here?”

I had no idea seeing how the wrapped object was no longer identifiable. So, she starts throwing out what I considered perfectly good food.

&#8220People die from food poisoning, you know,” she tells me, shaking her head.

A trip to the grocery store is not a fun thing for me, as I'm sure it's not for a lot of people. When I was a kid, I pushed the buggy for my mom and tried not to run into the back of anyone's heels.

That remains a priority even today.

My mother can go down the fruits and vegetables' aisle and fill those little plastic bags with fresh peas or beans so fast, while I'd still be standing there trying to figure out which end of the little plastic bag was the opened end.

And as far as I'm concerned, the best thing about the vegetable aisle is the mirrors, that way I can check my hair and make-up while I push the buggy.

On this particular visit to my house, my mom yells to me to come help her get some bags out of her car.

Now let me back up a minute.

I have grown up going to church singings, Sacred Harp singings, all-day church district meetings, and church communion meetings where we would have &#8220dinner on the ground.” My parents always kept the trunk of my mom's car full of whatever paper products were needed for &#8220dinner on the ground”: paper plates, napkins, plastic utensils, paper towels, toilet tissue - you name it, my momma had it in the trunk of her car. My daddy called it her &#8220rolling store.” They used to laugh about it, but I had no idea that a &#8220rolling store” actually existed.

Back to the bags.

I start carrying sacks of items into my house and unpacking them in the kitchen.

One bag contained a combo package of nine rolls of paper towels.

&#8220Momma, why did you bring me nine rolls of paper towels?”

&#8220You never know when you might need them.”

But the next sack was the kicker.

I reached in and pulled out a jumbo bag of 24 rolls of toilet tissue. I couldn't believe it.

&#8220Momma, what in the world is this?”

&#8220The last time I was here, I looked around and I only saw two rolls of toilet tissue, so I got you plenty so you wouldn't run out.”

Welcome to my world.

I had to put that jumbo pack of toilet tissue in the other bedroom; it's not like it'd fit anywhere in the bathroom.

Last week, I had the absolute joy and privilege of eating supper with the Bodiford family -Mrs. Alma, Mr. Calvin and Mike- and I was in heaven. Mrs. Alma served roast beef and potatoes, fresh corn, fresh butterbeans, fresh tomatoes and cucumbers, homemade biscuits, sweet iced tea, and I know that wasn't all.

She said I was welcome to eat with them anytime.

By the way, Mrs. Alma, Samson, my 21-pound tomcat, wanted me to tell you to please set two extra plates next time.

He'll be sure to bring his bib for supper, just as soon as he gets through rolling yards with all that toilet tissue.

Regina Grayson is managing editor of The Luverne Journal. She can be reached at 335-3541 or by email: regina.grayson@luvernejournal.com.