Yep, I've been gone. I've had to eat out most of the meals for a week now. I'm actually sick of it, as ridiculous as that sounds. I miss my own food. I'm trying not to eat junk but have obviously become delirious when I thought, "it says 'salad' beside it so the 2 lbs of fried seasoned beef, cheese, guacamole, sour cream and salsa poured over the ounce and a half of lettuce in the bottom of a deep fried edible bowl MUST be healthy!" (it WAS delicious though, Serranos at lunch last week; it'll be reviewed on www.eatingeverywhere.com when I get my head back on.)
I will be back in the week though, so stand warned. For those not in the know, I live in Austin, Texas, and last week the central air in the house went down completely. It'd been dying a slow on again off again death for about 2 weeks before that so I feel like we've been living in temperature limbo for way too long.
In some parts of the world that wouldn't be an issue or concern but for me, in 2010, in Austin, in September, it's hell. One day it was just at 100 and when I went outside, it was cooler than inside the house. Sure, there are other people dealing with other things, real things and much bigger problems than whether it's too hot to cook in the kitchen. I get that. I'm not comparing my little issue to any global crisis and I can't justify the moaning about it. I'm sort of sick of hearing myself complain, should the truth be told. That being said, for me, in my world, it was (and is) a biggie.
*we do have a window unit in the bedroom so we can all sleep, "hobo style" as Connor says and a unit in the living-room to take the edge off if we want to spend time in any room other than the bedroom.
Rumor has it the entire system is being replaced on Monday and THEN I'll cook. I'll write. I'll feel like I'm worth something, yeah, it's that deep for me. I'll come back to life and will hopefully find some degree of happiness that the loss of those things took.
I didn't realize what stock I put into the cooking and writing. I assumed it was just a side interest. I get the feeling sometimes the husband thinks it's all just a little something something to keep the happy little housewife busy between bouts of PTA volunteering and driving Connor to where he needs to be. I was wrong. I was big wrong. It's my lifeblood apparently, it keeps me sane, keeps me focused, gives me a total sense of self which is the gist of the whole thing I think. Most of all though, it keeps me happy in my skin. Maybe I'm putting too much stock in standing in the kitchen frying some chicken but I am shocked by how the absence of it has affected me.
Thanks for continuing to check in, keep doing it, I'll be back when it's cool enough that the butter doesn't turn to liquid on the counter and the peanut butter doesn't separate into an oily slimy mess in the pantry...that's how hot it got in here. Blech.
I'd share more but it's lunchtime and we're piling into the car, hmmm, maybe I'll just have a salad?