Enjoying One of My Favorite Elements

 

Over the past couple of days I managed to do a couple of things I haven’t done for ages. I baked; a batch of chocolate chip cookies for my son yesterday and a strawberry rhubarb pie for my husband today. I don’t mean heat and eat; these were the genuine articles, lovingly created with my own little hands from scratch. Yesterday morning my son asked me if I was ever going to make cookies ever again. His expression was particularly appealing at that moment and he sounded so plaintive that I decided to surprise him. As to the pie, it’s been in my "owe" column to make one of these for my husband for a long time. He missed out on his special birthday cake last December and I haven’t made a special goodie in a long time. I’ve cranked out the occasional pie once in a while but I must confess I’ve been using ready-made Pillsbury pie crusts instead of making my own. I don’t try to palm these off on my husband as homemade; he knows the difference between these and my own crust. When he discovered that pie for dessert would be more likely to be forthcoming if I took just a wee bit of a short-cut, he’s been satisfied to accept the substitute.

When it comes to making pastry, however, one must keep a hand in once in awhile. According to my dearest, I make fabulous pie crust which is not the easiest thing to accomplish in the kitchen. I don’t know whether I’m cursed or blessed with this claim to fame. I don’t especially like making crusts but I always feel extremely industrious and proud of myself once the pie is out of the oven, cooling on the counter. I think I’ve finally come to the conclusion that if I bypass all the hemming and hawing, whining and occasional cursing and just put that energy into making the darn thing, it gets done much more quickly. I’ve also decided that making a pie is a lot like sex; don’t think too deeply about it, just take the plunge and everything will turn out fine.

I have been in my glory these last several days. I’ve had four days off from work and it’s been simply divine. It’s wonderful to be on my own timetable, to do what I want when I want. It’s been a joy to be able to exercise in the morning and not have to wait until I get home from work when all I feel like doing at that point is flopping down in a chair not to get up again until it’s time for bed. Of course that never happens; there are chores to do, dinner to fix and so on and it all has to be crammed into a condensed time frame. There’s such a sense of freedom in waking up in the morning, your whole day stretched out before you like an empty canvas just waiting for you to decide in what way you will design it. I’ve never understood the lament of so many women that they’d be so bored if they had to stay home all day. It appears I’m sufficient unto myself to be quite happy puttering about the house. I feel blessed that I’m a person quite happy in my own company for part of the day. So much to do...so little time.