We’ve been bad lately. Few of our meals have been home cooked the last few weeks. It begs the question: has my mood driven our dinner selection, was it the other way around, or were we involved in a tragic dinner-depression feedback loop?
Begging or not, that’s not really why I’m writing. I’m writing because we didn’t have salsa.
“Holy hot sauce…
I am childlike. In some contexts this statement could be seen as a compliment. It’s not meant to be one this time.
I hate to cook. I love to cook.
I hate the idea of cooking on the drive home, after a particularly long day at the office. Once I get home and start slinging pots, pans and ingredients… I’m in love.
I’m not particularly creative, daring, or good. But I’ll…