What a conundrum, being a lover of ideas ie: lists. Hence the seduction of "the list", hence the trouble that can be gotten into when we become close w/someone because of "their list" versus how they live and are we even compatible. This thought was one of many that was chewed over during supper last night at Wasabi w/m'girl. And as we perused cookbooks for turkey tips & traded tales of lips kissed I realized, again, again, that my family is fluid, my home is people, and I have an amazing bounty of things to be thankful for.
And as I just poached Herman two eggs to lay over sauteed onions, tomatoes & green peppers served on top of a toasted english muffin I think of how easy it is to overlook a woman's accomplishments if she can cook. See I can cook & bake up a storm but I also kick ass selling art & putting together exhibits & coordinating this business - and I think my boss forgets all this. As if cooking is so "essentially" "female" that a woman who excells at it is shooting herself in the foot if she wants to be taken seriously as a "worker" or an intellectual. Symbolically speaking. I'm not getting all hoity here, this is just something I FEEL. It's foggy but real.
So thanks for that cinnamon scone, Dog, because that and the bloody red flowers you gave me made my morning so far.
Kitty Wells "It Wasn't God Who Made Honky-Tonk Angels"
Did I ever tell you about the time I was sexually harassed by a mime?
YOU SURE CAN COOK YOU FEISTY SEXY THING
Posted by: detroit s. | 24/11/2004 at 12:41