Life is like a homemade meatball. It’s not always perfect and it usually tastes better with sauce. Sometimes it falls apart, and sometimes it can be smushed back together in interesting ways. Some people need their meatballs with lots of ingredients, some folks like them simple.
So why am I, the woman who never cooks, talking about meatballs? Well I made my first ones today and my own marinara, and it was totally rockin’. I’ve had a weekend of firsts in the kitchen. I made chicken enchiladas from scratch, chocolate cake, lemon chicken, banana bread and all sorts of other treats. I’ve done more cooking in the last three days, than I have in three months. Seriously. Probably has something to do with my serious addictions to the Food Network and HGTV, but something clicked and I got busy. My friend Britta says she does things like that, cooking for no reason when she’s gone years without doing so, right before she has some big creative breakthrough.
I don’t know about that. I’m in revision poopy head. Or revision hell as I like to call it on several projects at once. That may be why I’ve turned to cooking. My youngest is also very ill, and Mr. Murphy, as in Murphy’s Law, has been visiting for a couple of weeks now, and I really wish he would go home.
I’m going to pretend today, wasn’t really as bad as it was, and wake up tomorrow with a good attitude. I will, stop it. I will. Happy thoughts. Candy is thinking happy thoughts…