Let's pretend that anyone cares about my domestic purasuits.

I cook. I really like it and I think I'm pretty good at it. I collect recipes from magazines and actually make them later. I read cookbooks like regular books- every line. My recipe collection, while always loosely organized, has recently become cumbersome- a file folder for each category, each file folder wearing extremely thin at the bottom and an explosion of paper when opened. It was time for something to be done.

I took advantage of a sale at Roberts' and purchased a heavy duty binder and a couple hundred sheet protectors and I organized those recipes into a beautiful and useful and functional recipe book. My unearthing of long-forgotten recipes has been an inspiration to my daily cooking. In the last 10 days or so, I have made a delicious chili recipe (a top-secret one), a butternut squash soup that was so tasty (of course my children refused it), and unlocked the secret to fluffy buttermilk biscuits. I've made these biscuits 3 different times in the last 7 days with no leftovers yet. I'm a nerd, a really big nerd, but you all should be jockeying for a dinner invite to my house.

Of course, Kate and Kiki are less than impressed. They totally refused my beef stew last night. Bruce came to my defense and lectured my ungrateful offspring about how lucky they were to have a mom who cooked at all, let alone as good as I do. Kiki, as you might guess, was not affected. Kate, however, came to me and said in a very apologetic tone, "I'll eat your dinner, Mama, even if I think it is gross."