I’ve always considered myself a bit of a renaissance woman. I like exploring new hobbies and becoming proficient at them. Some, I let fall off over time (like knitting). Others stick with me.
I’m a pretty good cook. I grew up with my grandmother and we were usually pretty broke. Most of the time, what we ate was from scratch. What choice did we have, you know?
So, I went from having a pretty-broke childhood to a definitely broke college experience and transitioned from there into a paycheck-to-paycheck existence for the first few years of my marriage. I learned to get creative with food because we ate some pretty cheap stuff.
Later, money was less tight, and I bought better stuff. Better ingredients. Fancy gourmet items. A good knife and cutting board.
I was awesome. Adventurous, even, when it came to food. I have a pile of cookbooks like you wouldn’t believe.
Then stuff happened.
I had kids. We moved. Publishers started acquiring my books. My days became less regimented…
Do I feel guilty about it?
But, the truth is, ever since we moved in December 2011, I’ve been in a state of severe disorganization. Even keel? What’s that? I’ve meal-planned perhaps twice in a year. I’m lucky to heave meat defrosted by the day I need to cook it. I guess…between the disruption my writing process causes and the fact my kids complain about WHATEVER is on their plates 50% of the time, I’ve stopped trying so hard.
All those fantastic quiches and cakes I used to make?
Maybe when both kids are in school–we’ve got a while to go with the not-quite-3-year-old–I’ll pick up some of my old hobbies. For right now, I’m still trying to work out my balance. This working-from-home stuff is kind of discombobulating. If you’ve figured out the tricks to this, I’d love to hear them!