I am in a mood tonight.
For a whole lot of reasons. I'm still detoxing from last week's denominational broughaha, and from recent encounters with a few of my coreligionists (they might argue that point) who make me want to throw things, at them. On Monday I was blindsided by an inexplicable episode of one-sided intergenerational friction here at Cold Comfort Cottage; always delightful to come home to. I am worried about a number of people I care about, who are laboring under some heavy burdens. I have been biting my nails over some event planning at work, as well as the definite possibility that my stable of volunteer drivers, a vital part of our agency staff -- many of whom are retirees on fixed incomes -- will quit en masse if gasoline prices go any higher. The news is getting me down, not only the various worldwide geopolitical messes but even fluff like the fahion and marketing world's misogynistic hand-wringing over
Dove's Campaign For Real Beauty .(My God, the horror of gazing upon real women's un-airbrushed bodies!...you poor, poor boy, Seth. Shield your eyes, if you must.) Oh, and there was this little news nugget adding to my sense that the jerks of the world are winning, and everyone else is just giving up. And I am feeling, in general, if you haven't already kind of picked up on this, stressed/distressed/oppressed/unloved/unappreciated/pissed.
I figure I'm allotted a certain number of pissed-off days per year, so I'm giving myself over to my current pissed-off-ness -- "Whatever you do, do it will all your might." Well, all right then, dammit.
So...I'm cooking. Even though it's past 10:00 p.m. It makes me feel better.
I just got done putting a pot roast in my crock pot...a couple of pieces of forgotten chuck steak (the unlikely precipitating factors of our domestic rowdy-dow...don't even ask)at the back of the freezer, thawed and browned and added to some vegetables, seasoned broth and some snippets of herbs from my planter. In the meantime, I cooked up some fresh green beans from a local market -- oooh, baby, they are so good; their taste recollects the scent of the bean blossoms -- and made them into an old-fashioned three-bean salad, spiffed up a little with wine vinegar, olive oil and a dash of Dijon mustard. Some crusty rolls from the bakery, and I think we'll call this a meal.
Tomorrow we feast. I wish I could invite you all. I wish I could invite the Dove women, too -- a little pot roast once in awhile is good maintenance for womanly curves. Cherchez les femmes.
But I'd rather be cooking happy, to tell you the truth.
13 comments:
The plastic surgery item is downright horrifying. What are we about?
I hope the dinner was delicious, and I'm sorry about the domestic and ecclesiastical troubles.
Oh, I haven't et it yet.;-) But it sure smelled good this morning when I woke up.
The domestic issue has resolved, sort of. [rueful smile] One down, 999 to go...
I love potroast--even in August. HMMM--I think I have some chuck steak in the freezer too . . .
I usually do pot roast in a Dutch oven, but the crockpot is great for summertime.
I have a recipe for pork pot roast that I want to try sometime -- it has winter veggies like Brussels sprouts in it.
My anti-bad-cholesterol meal m.o. lately has been to aim for two vegan meals, or alternatively, meals with the omega-3 fish in it, a day, and then have, as they say, a sensible dinner with MEEEEAT.
I have a hankering for pot roast myself. I find that some creative outlet (cooking included) is sometimes just the thing to help out in times of funk.
You may feel stressed/distressed/oppressed/pissed but you're not unloved/unappreciated. I love and appreciate you.
Shalom
Revmom: Considering that I have just activated Phase One -- Roger that -- of Operation Yard Sale Cookie Monster -- I should be in the midst of Teresa-of-Avila-esque ecstatic experience by this time next week, as piles of bar cookies arise around me.;-)
Tom: Aw, shucks...yer gonna make me oversalt my bean salad.;-)
I'm thinking of doing a roast myself this evening. The BF is home and it seems so homey here in the fogbelt of SF.
Good plan, C*.;-)
Meanwhile...I'm so happy...I found a place, in the city where I work one day a week (we have satellite offices in our service area), that sells organic beef, chicken and eggs from the owners' farm. Ironically, it's a short distance from our office...I've been within walking range for the past two years and didn't know about it. You walk in and ask about the organic meat, and they take you 'round back to the fridge/freezer. My personal campaign to "think globally, eat locally" scores another win!
oh yay for farm raised meat and eggs!
I have been taking advantage of my weakened state to visit local eateries I've wondered about but haven't gone to, because I can normally cook pretty well for myself at home.
A "stitch for the husband"???
I'm not even gonna say it . . . but I'm thinking it. };-p
Charlotte: This outfit makes me feel like I'm in a speakeasy...you go to the counter, say something like, "Pssst...this where I can score an organic chicken?", then they go to a back room...it's all on the up-and-up; they have a flyer; but it's just amusing.
Re eating out: Had a great time eating Indian last weekend...I love Greek food too, and someone told me about a Greek restaurant in the nearest "big" (not really) city...I think that's our next restaurant road trip.
J.C. You will note that I didn't even address that story in detail...I can't think about it without wanting to commit major slappage; actually, when it comes to the husbands/boyfriends egging these women on, and the surgeons selling these services, I'd like to perform some amateur plastic surgery on their nether regions.:P And you just want to do an intervention with these women...."Woman, you get some plastic surgery down there! You're ugly! You don't look like the girls in my porn!" "Oh -- okey-dokey, honey!" And they think we're the deviant ones...
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