I'm sitting here in my slightly messy kitchen, desperately wishing I was a far more organized person. I have the best of intentions. Always. Some days I am more successful than others. Today, well, today does not feel like it is going to be one of "those" days.
Hubs has a headache, I'm sure the drastic temperature change has a lot to do with it. And the pollen and mold count has to be high, always is when changes happen.
Me? I'm sitting here listening to one of my favorite cd's, sipping my coffee, waiting for him to return from a quick trip to the grocery. We've been wanting to try scotch eggs, both of us are intrigued. While I soft boil eggs he is picking up the sausage. Do I feel these will qualify as low-fat or even remotely healthy? Nope, sure don't! But I do feel that they will qualify as good for the soul. It's all about balance right?
I am definitely wanting to get back to making more of my food at home. So today is all about prepping some meals, stocking the fridge and freezer with good for us, yummy meals. And I just got my copy of Lisa Lillien's Obsessed. There are many recipes in there that need to be made.
Lasagna, Sweet and Sour Spare Ribs and I'm thinking some made from scratch noodles are on the agenda today. All of these freeze well and we can quickly eat lunches and dinners.
I'm tired of eating out. I no longer have the energy or desire to drive somewhere, to listen to children that are completely out of control and parents too wrapped up in their phones to give a crap about what they are doing.
I am tired of hoping for a moment of rest and a good meal, and realizing when I get the outrageous bill that it's been loud, stressful, no chance for conversation, I've pleaded for a refill of my water or the flip side and the waiter/waitress has appeared every bite to ask a question. I'm tired of requesting my food one way and receiving it wrong. Of sitting there hungry, nibbling on the bread I didn't want, waiting for my dinner while Hubs is not only finished his dinner but had time to eat a dessert also.
I remember when eating out was a treat. A joy. When did eating at home become the treat? Taking time to make a meal, setting a table, lighting a candle and opening a bottle of wine used to be common place. I remember hearing my dad "ordering" (that is meant kindly - my dad is a career military man, he usually issues "orders" about everything) us girls to set the table for dinner.
The routine, the ritual. The act of creating a meal and nourishing your family. It seems we are losing that. I know we have been. My cookbooks are gathering dust.
I was talking with my girl the other day, she's focusing on that very thing. Complete with making the baby's food fresh. Meals should not come in a plastic container. Or a brown paper bag.
Hubs arrived home with beautiful "talking flowers" (he claims they were calling to him to bring them home to me), although they are more commonly known as Alstroemeria, they don't have a fragrance, but they are beautiful, soft white with a slight purple center.
He knows I love flowers.
I made the scotch eggs. Surprisingly they are quite good and very filling. Sitting in the quiet of our dining room, chatting with Hubs, such a dramatic change from the "special" breakfast that he took me out to the other day. Sure my boys were sitting at my feet, nudging for a treat, sure beats the kid having a meltdown behind me grabbing his food and screaming. It was soft and quiet today. Just us.
I keep saying that I need find balance. Maybe this is the start.
Balance needs to start somewhere. Instead of rushing from point A to point B, with barely a chance take a deep breath.
I fear that too many times I get caught up in the rat race. Listening to the breeze through the trees, the sunlight dappling like God's paint brush on the leaves that are changing colors outside my windows. It's reminding me to slow down.
As soon as Hubs is finished watching his show, we will run out to take care of our errands. Somewhere in there I feel like we will take a walk, maybe in a beautiful park, or in an area with small locally owned shops. Not a hurried walk. No mission. Just casual, slow, enjoying each other, the breeze, the sunshine and the being part of something greater than ourselves.
At some point today we will load that quilt top I finally finished on the quilt frame. I determined last night that I will be finishing these last two and then I will not be taking any commission work. It steals my joy from the process. It becomes work. It ceases to be about the joy of creating. I need to go and get a backing and batting for it first.
My fingers are starting to itch again to feel the smoothness of my knitting needles. My ears are longing to hear the rhythmic whirl of my spinning wheel, to feel the silky roving as it slides through my fingers. My senses are all longing to be engaged again. My nose cannot wait to smell the spices as I make the the lasagna sauce.
I'm enjoying this slower pace. This more intentional way of living. I'm finding joy in the little things again. Filling the dishwasher, cleaning the floors, cooking, doing laundry.
I guess I'm just an old fashioned housewife at heart. Heels, pantyhose, dresses and makeup cannot hide the fact that my heart is always in search of the basics.
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