Didn't I feed you last night?

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Can I hear an amen? That book on the floor would be The Winds of War by Herman Wouk {at least this week, and probably next week - it's 900 pages}. I would so much rather read than face my fridge.

What to cook for dinner?

Every day when the girls go down after lunch, I bite my nails until this puzzle is solved. What will I fix? Not because we have no options. On the contrary I have a hundred half options, a tried recipe with one ingredient missing or a list of ingredients waiting on my brain to concoct a recipe. I want to slump with her.

It's the deciding that gets me. All day, deciding. The biggest pro and con to self-employment and the essence of SAHMing.

This is first world problems all the way. Too many options for dinner? Truly ridiculous.

Seriously, I'm sorry for griping that I have to decide what to feed my family.

I left in the gripe because I guess we all get there on occasion. Dinner is just a straw on a back that gave out yesterday and confined me to the couch.

Trying to train myself back to writing. Not dissimilar to breaking running training, then fighting through wheezing lungs all over again. That's the real reason I leave the post. I've got to start back somewhere.