A life without books...I don't think so!
Statcounter.com
Time to make the doughnuts...
posted Monday, 12 May 2008
Icky...I just fought my way up from one of those dreams that weigh you down...you just want out of it, but it's a struggle to come back to consciousness. Of course, it's worse when you're napping during the day and you hear your kids let themselves in from school. Not exactly a natural awakening. Every damn day I swear I won't need a nap, even as I lie down. I think, I'm not going to be able to fall asleep. Then BAM, it's at least an hour later and there's drool on my pillow. Today I was back at an old job as a secretary at NYU, but even though I knew I was at NYU, I was actually in a very 70s brown and orange office at my undergrad institution in Ohio. And my current dean was my boss, although she was in a different woman's body - a creative writing prof I had at NYU. Why do they have to be in different bodies? And of course, it wouldn't be perimenopause around here if I somehow didn't end up having sex in the dream, too. And now I have a headache and am sorry I even took the damn nap. &(*^^&%^* subconscious! Leave me alone! And it's that glorious time of day I love - time to make dinner. Or rather time to enter tense negotiations with the three little people I made, and subsequently spoiled, by not forcing them to eat certain foods. Now my life is hell. Not that I love to cook, but when you're limited to chicken nuggets, pasta and waffles, there's not a whole lot of creativity going on. I actually made lunch for the people I share an office with and they LOVED it - black bean chili and spanish rice. I was overjoyed. Particularly when one said that he was surprised because "pretty girls can't cook." Well, milfy girls can, fella. I actually excel at the one pot meal concept. Comfort food types of things. Chili, pasta, lasagna. I am not as good at the whole "meat, vegetable & starch" combination. I tend to overcook any kind of meat or chicken, and since that's the star of the show, I've blown it right away. Tonight we are having my very special spaghetti with meatballs from the butcher. Yes, my butcher makes a great meatball. I make little rocks that taste bad. Chef Ragu is making the sauce. I've tried to make my own sauce, of course, but the kids miss all the artificial flavors and preservatives. The spaghetti meal sometimes satisfies all six of us. Dexter is in for leftovers of any variety, and middle can have his with butter sauce. Baby Girl is all about the meatballs, provided they are not too "saucy." Which means I end up scraping red sauce off of them while she whimpers. Hubby does not like the regular sauce, so he has to take his meatballs and cook them in a different, more gourmet kind of sauce that is spicy. Lying Child pretends to be thrilled, because he is a people pleaser like his mom, and then discreetly dumps half his plate. Then I yell at everyone and rummage through the frig looking for wine, and there is none. Because I drank it for Mother's Day, because it helps me cope with my children, because they don't eat like normal people, because I spoiled them. I believe I've come full circle - maybe that sex in the brown office dream wasn't so bad after all - then again, I can't remember who was there WITH me....
comments