a woman’s work is never done

Today I was inspired. I put on a 40’s style kerchief and got to work to whip this house back into shape. If I could fit into one of my original 50s dresses, pointy toed heels and a frilly apron, I’d have gone the whole 50’s housewife look.
As it was, flannel shirt and paint splattered track pants had to do. 
The plan was to finish a few started projects (or at least move them along a step or two), clean the house (which is a disgrace – glad my mom lives thousands of miles away and isn’t likely to drop in unannounced!), and cook.
Well, I didn’t clean the house.
What I did do was remove the horizontal blinds from the kitchen window that now looks into the mud room and put a rail up to hang pans. I put a hook on the other window so that when I lift the blinds I can tie them up and they won’t come crashing down again. I folded washing. I took a couple more suncatcher/chimes down to the local cafe to replace 2 which have sold.
And I cooked. I don’t often feel like cooking but when I do, I cook tons. This morning over breakfast I flipped through my old recipe book, the one where I started writing mom’s recipes when I was a teenager. It got me all nostalgic for mom’s cooking.
I chose 3 things to make – pastitsio (a lasagne-type of dish with rigatoni), peas with tomato and dill and spring onions, and pasta flora for dessert (and snacks for work this week). 
I just wish I was as good a cook as my mom is.
z

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