Monday, November 14, 2011

In Which I Confess That I'm Not Really A Gwyneth

What is a "Gwyneth," you ask?
It's a Perfect Person.  Tall, thin, eco-conscious, kind, crafty, arty, smart, beautiful, raises her children Just So.

I was on the phone with Steeeve today, and said, "Let me just TELL you what was on my menu this last weekend!"

He apparently braced himself for me to say, "At the local farmers' market, I found the most EXquisite tomato, and with the basil from my own garden, the homemade ricotta my CHILDREN made, we lovingly crafted this salad with fresh-ground multi-colored pepper, imported balsamic vinegar, and just a TEENY touch of truffle oil."

I admit that I like to tell of my culinary successes.  I'll post pictures of the fresh mozzarella dangling in its cheesecloth,over my sink.  Or the homemade garlic scape pesto cream sauce.  Or the fresh strawberry/rhubarb-stuffed french toast.

Well, none of that this time.

TWO nights running of frozen boxed pizza.  One lunch of canned Campbell's soup.  Toaster Strudels for breakfast one day, and those frozen Jimmy Dean sausage/egg/cheese croissants the next.  Frozen fish stick/mac and cheese dinners for lunch on Sunday. 


Surrender.  I did it.

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