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Ramble Ramble Rah

I'm just getting over Sam's cold (which was a real POW-knock-'em-sock-'em-then-gone kind of illness), and I've been fairly cranky. I think I've done a pretty thorough job of alienating my husband tonight with petty pickings (I've apologized, but still), and I'm wary of trying to start conversation with anybody else for fear of continuing my streak of social destruction. Yet I feel like chattering, so I turn here. Apologies in advance for the ramble to follow.

I made fish for dinner tonight. I'm not fond of fish, but it falls in with one of my New Year's Resolutions (to lose weight) and with one of Eric's. He wants to eat less red meat. He actually wanted to cut out red meat altogether, but, as chief cook of the household, I put down my foot.

"I like beef," I said. "It tastes good, and it's a fun ingredient. I like pork, too. Most of my favorite recipes have red meat in them, and I don't want to give them up."

"You'd rather give me up?" he fired back. Match, set, and point. I conceded to give up red meat for all but one main meal a week.

So I made fish tonight. I had some frozen catfish fillets, and I threw them on the George Foreman grill with some lemon pepper and olive oil. I feel completely and totally uninspired it comes to fish. Grill, fry, broil. I have no imagination, and my trusty cookbooks aren't fueling my fire. Eric likes whatever I do, but I prefer the enthusiastic responses I get for my usual, high-comfort, high-fat meals. (Wouldn't anyone?)

I don't know. I realize that our family's health is more important than a mouth-watering meal or two, but I was really beginning to enjoy cooking. In fact, Eric was starting to be able to brag on me at work, when his coworkers would stop by his office to see what leftovers he'd brought with him each day. Now I feel as if somebody has thrown water on my fire.

Maybe if I had some great fish recipes, it would help. It certainly couldn't hurt, and you guys have really come through for me in the past. (Man, some of you are true gourmets!) General vegetarian recipes would also come in handy; last night, I made ziti with tomato mushroom sauce, and it was pretty tasty, but my imagination tends to hit a brick wall and stop after pasta.

Our plans involve two vegetarian nights, two fish, two chicken, and one red meat night every week. Eric is satisfied with this plan, and I'm...well, accepting, anyway. It should help melt pounds away, as long as I don't compensate for the loss of red meat by tossing in liberal amounts of cheese (tempting as that may be).

Sam and I went out to the mall today. We both still have a nasty cough, but I couldn't face another day of staring at these walls. I figured that the mall would give us an opportunity to get out and look at things without having to talk to and possibly infect other people. Isolation in a crowd, the American lifestyle at its finest.

Anyway, we went out, and Sam was apparently feeling better, for he was back to his whole flirting routine in full force. He ran up to saleswomen, cocked his head to one shoulder, wiggled his fingers at them, and grinned a crooked smile at them before turning and dancing away. He made all the girls go mushy ("He is the cutest!") and all the guys nearly pee their pants with laughter. I'm telling you, it's little boys like Sam that made my own uterus hum long before I ever even thought seriously about creating one.

So we went, up and down the halls of the mall, and we got Sam one of those complementary little car strollers that he so adores. We were driving around happily, Sam yelling "Beep, beep!" at the top of his lungs, when I spied a new toy store where an old one had gone out of business months ago. I eagerly ran for it, only to find that where once a classy, nice toy store had existed, there now was one selling primarily plastic Chinese items. One box proclaimed, in loud capital letters, "Amazing Amusive Animal Train Fun!" A caption read, "Full Of Interesting And Carefully!!!" I swear, I almost bought it just for that line alone; it was only eight dollars.

I resisted, though. Of strong will, am I.

(Okay, now I'm really cheesed. My computer just crashed and lost the rest of the entry that I just finished typing. Ugh! Now I'm too tired to think, so just take my word for it that it was much better the first time around.)

I need to knit some more.

I need to find more healthy recipes for my family.

I need to finish re-catching up on the Wheel of Time series so that I can read the newest book that was just released.

I need to do laundry.

I need to finally decide how to spend that spa gift certificate.

I need to assemble Sam's new play table.

I need to rearrange the furniture in his room to accomodate said table. Maybe if I find a bigger bookshelf, I can consolidate and free up some space.

I need to stop coughing.

I need to take a nice, long bath.

Actually, I can probably take care of that last item if I stop typing now. G'night!

previous one year ago:
Halfway through the Christmas Eve festivities, he got fed up with having candy canes poked at his face ("Aw, look! She wants to share!") and had a complete meltdown.
two years ago:
I had to make an emergency run to a very convenient maternity outlet store while at my parents' house; only one of the pairs of pants that I had packed would fit me anymore.
three years ago:
Birthday parties, I can handle. A bon voyage fete for the assistant director? I'm out of my league.
On the Stereo:
That 70's Show

On the Bookshelf:
Nothing (yet)

Gratuitous Sam

Daddy and Sam in PJs

Sam in Grandma's little wagon

Sam with his New Year's gifts


©1999-2003 C. Richmond.