Sauce

Today's pointless photo is, of course, not of sauce. It's of snow.

I'm so fricking tired of snow...

And yes, I do realise that I'm not the only one.

Shut up.

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Last night, after getting home slightly late-ish from work (or at least later than usual) and turning on the Food Network for no apparent reason, I decided that I didn't want to eat something from the freezer. I wanted mac and cheese. And not from a box (although I would have been out of luck if I'd wanted the KD variety anyway, because I don't have any at the moment).

So I made cheese sauce.

Good old-fashioned bechamel, with sharp cheddar, dry mustard, and worcestershire added. It was good. Went well with the penne. I didn't bother to bake the whole thing since it was well past my normal supper time by then, but it was still a pretty respectable dish for a last-minute thought.

And why is this news?

Oh, just because I can't remember the last time I did it.

The whole thing's kind of frustrating, when it comes down to it. You see, I can cook. I'm perfectly capable of it. I may not have the widest repertoire, but I know a few things. I'm also pretty good at following recipes if I don't know how to make something. I'm not a kitchen idiot, is what I'm saying.

Why, then, don't I cook?

I don't know.

I generally try to do a proper meal at least once a week so that I can have leftovers for a while and then eke out the remainder of the seven-day period with frozen whatsit, but lately I've gotten lazy about even that. It's stupid. Half the time I don't even want the convenience food, but it's what I have because it's what's on hand. I guess... I guess maybe it gets a little old cooking for one person all of the time? Yeah, that could be a big part of it. I have one person to cook for. If I make a big meal I'll be eating the same damned thing for days on end, and if I make a small meal it's a lot of effort for just the one meal.

And sometimes, frankly, I'm just not that enthusiastic about being enthusiastic about food.

Don't get me wrong -- I like a good meal. I just don't always crave a good meal. I'm not a foodie. I don't always savour what I'm ingesting. Often as not, I eat because I have to eat. Some days I'd probably be just as happy getting my daily diet from a pill. Makes a person wonder why no one's created a viable Human Chow, really.

Chow for humans, obviously, is what I'm meaning there. Not chow from humans. That'd be Soylent Green.

Ah well. This week was better than I've been for a while. Homemade meat sauce for the spaghetti on Sunday (more sauce, huh? Maybe that's what I need in my life after all), homemade cheese sauce yesterday, and nothing from the freezer all week.

Um, yet. Probably tonight, but I 'll see what I can do to keep the streak going.

In the meantime, could someone explain to me my sudden craving for lemons and limes? I swear, I recently went through a three pound bag of lemons in less than two weeks. And that's just with making lemonade or having lemon and soda water. There are definitely worse things, of course, but one person going through three pounds of lemons that quickly could make you wonder, don't you think?

It makes me wonder, anyway.

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In other news, as my shoulder starts to heal I find myself wanting to talk about the rather disgusting things that have happened to it, but no one seems to want to hear my disgusting stories. The Ontario office seems to be ok with it, but telling a gross story in 160 characters isn't always the easiest thing. I'd spread the grossness here, but I'm pretty sure my two fans really don't want to be bothered by the whole thing either. In an effort, then, to keep things family-friendly but still say SOMETHING:

1. I am tired of smelling like adhesive bandages/dressings.
2. I am tired of having an extra hole in my body.



That's all.

For now, at least.