Well, my husband has been keeping an online journal for over four years. I thought I’d give it a try and now that I actually have it set up (which was way easier than I thought it would be) I’m kicking myself for not doing it a lot sooner. However the idea of just about anyone reading this also gave me some pause.. but I guess I must have enough exhibitionism to override the idea of the whole world having access to my thoughts. Plus I’m realistic enough to know that this will not interest most people and the most avid reader will be my mom. Hi Mom!
Tonight I cooked a pretty killer meal- spanish goulash with beef, fruit salad, rolls. I’ve had an inexplicable motivation the last few weeks to actually consult recipes, plan my grocery list for the week, and.. well.. cook. This is actually working out better than I expected. We’ll see how long it lasts. I wrestle with the life long determination I’ve always had that one day my husband and I will do all household chores EQUALLY vs the emerging instinct for domesticity, which is a small sly prompting that compels me to clean everything. Men no longer have to go out and chase and kill their dinner (except for my friend Robert) so why should women still do all the cooking?
Yet, there I was doing all the cooking like my mother and her mother and her mother before her. And Steve came out of his office and like his father and his father before him, pronounced it good.
The rolls I made were those Pillsbury flaky rolls that come in a tube. The hubby loves to peel each layer off one at a time and eat it. My mom always bought these rolls. You peel the wrapping off in a spiral until the can pops.. or rather, explodes. It got to the point where as soon as my mother pulled out this tube of rolls, the dog would know what was coming and leave the room. Fearful of the exploding roll tube, she would try to pawn if off on me, but I didn’t have the nerve for it either. She always had to open it, cringing and tense the whole time. What made it even more nervewracking was that sometimes it opened with a benign pop, othertimes, it sounded like a gun shot.
Now it’s up to me to open them. The last bunch of times the can opened so quietly, so calmly. I became confident, lulled into believing that those cans don’t explode anymore. Tonight I didn’t even wince as I started to peel the wrapping away.
Yeah, they still know how to get you.
Mar 30th 2003Uncategorized