Today one of those great moments happened: I impulsively invited a friend and his daughter over for dinner. I don’t normally make enough food to feed an entire second family (being mostly as we are in denial that Nels can eat two steaks and a bucket of coleslaw then demand a quart of milk) but tonight’s repast involved lots of beets, meatballs, and baked potatoes – easy. Oddly enough, I make excellent baked potatoes in a very unique method and I get compliments every time I make them. Compliments on my goddamn baked potatoes. Am I too lazy to food blog my secret? Yes, I am. I hate my food blog.
Dinner went great and I was so pleased to see my friend have second and third helpings of my food. What sickness is it in a woman that one of the more gratifying experiences in life is to watch the enjoyment of her cooking – especially the enjoyment by a male? I am not really ashamed to admit it, since you know, I’m publishing it here. But I feel like I should be ashamed.
This is our winter weather in PT. A little wind, a tiny bit of damp. The look of suspicion is so Sophie. Maybe she’s wondering where the hell her hands went.
This year for my birthday (the 11th of this month), I am anticipating another fabulous knitted item from my friend Abbi. In the above picture you may spy her gift to me of two years ago, the Toddle scarf from knitty. Last year, it was a pair of cool wool handwarmers in poison green (my favorite color). Later in the season she made Suse a tiny pair to match. It’s fucking rad having a driven knitting friend. I myself have been slogging away at a mysterious item I will only refer to as the “Resentment Scarf” and lucky is the woman on the receiving end, as I thrust a clumsily-wrapped Hate Package into her hands and run off crying tears of rage and frustration. I will finish the thing, though. So Help Me God.