
I know I should begin the blog with a stellar description of the impressive dinner that I just slaved away on for the better part of the day, while my two angels amused themselves in the playroom with wooden educationally sound toys… but… my life isn’t always like that. In fact, rarely like that. Truthfully, never like that. Fine. You made me admit it. But, but, my Thanksgiving spread for 14 was aammmazzing in my defense. I can do it. Really.
So, as much as I love to prepare home cooked meals with as many “from scratch” ingredients as I can muster, sometimes, it just isn’t possible. Today the kids are sick, yet, are still crazy hyper. There have been more “no no”s than “yes yes”s said to my boys in various tones and volumes. Play-dough was fun, but I am now picking it out of the littlest one’s diaper (that is not what I mean by “from scratch” eats, kid). Mama needs a break.
Cue my wonderful husband ordering almost equally wonderful (Who am I kidding! The food definitely gives him a run for his money!) Indian take out from one of our local restaurants.
When we relocated out of our last urban camp, to our “wide open spaces” new home, I had nightmarish visions of living forever on bad take out pizza (I love pizza by the way. The good stuff with bubbling cheese, thin dough, and burnt edges) and delivery Chinese food from hell. Think gloppy-cornstarch-protein-in-a-brown-sauce sort of monstrosities. This has proven not to be the case. Sure, the first 6 months were a little more Dante’s Inferno and less Julia Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking for my liking. But, through word of mouth, numerous Yelp searches, and plain old run of the mill lucky strikes, we have our range of restaurants. Indian. Thai. Authentic Bhan Mi & Pho. Sushi. Even a Chinese Dumpling House that we have been told by people “in the know”, tastes like “home”.
Cut back to the delicious Indian Food now sitting on my counter waiting to be devoured. Pakoras. Curries. Chicken Tikka Masala. Dals. YUM. I love my kids, but maybe I should not discourage them from bad behavior if this is my reward at the end of the day. Nah. I’ll just pull out all the wooden toys to replace the technicolor dreamworld that is the playroom.
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