You have been so good to me this week. So good. You told me to rest, and to keep it simple, stupid, and gave me specific strategies for making this last quarter (!) of 2007 easier: you sent family recipes (none of which are supposed to be kept secret, thankfully), recipe ideas, and suggestions ranging from meditation to repetitive screaming. Ten minutes max prep time, you said. I got McIntosh apples in the mail from New England, and made the crisp again with them. (It was better.) Last night we had dinner with friends at their house; they a specific dinner in mind (I’ll share it soon), so they did the grocery shopping, and I just showed up and took notes while they chopped and stirred and washed dishes.
You’ve pampered me.
Really, though. The weather in Seattle hasn’t improved, and frankly, I’m not feeling much better. And I don’t want to talk about it out loud, because all I have to share is a big bouquet of complaints. (If you’re looking for a pick-me-up story today, that’s your cue.)