My husband has gone out in the cold rain to take our son to school and then go to work, and here I am, snug as a bug in a rug, sitting on the sofa with a hot pack, watching the X Files on Netflix, just having eaten an enormous breakfast of eggs, toast, smoked salmon, goat cheese, and the coffee that my husband brewed but hadn't time to drink. I can't complain of anything really, I oughtn't, I have no grounds.
The domestic dilemmas...I've two eggs left in the fridge. Am I to use them for muffins as a treat, or for vegetable patties for dinner, with almond flour and broccoli stems? Muffins, of course, I will make muffins - my husband and son will enjoy them, and something sweet always improves the memory of an indifferent dinner, while even the loveliest meal can feel a bit flat without a little bit of something after. Anyway, I do think there are enough tomatoes left for pasta sauce after all, especially stretched with the mushrooms and the red pepper, so the veg patties can be for another day.
Bright news...I've finally found a good place for the coconut oil - in the cabinet above the sink, it neither melts to liquid nor hardens to rock. And, with the help of a fork, I've finally managed to open the new jar of ghee, after it mocked me for over a week with its stubborn impregnability.
I need to buy some more raisins and maybe some more nuts, for snacking, baking, and granola; also I'd like to get some cocoa powder, as I'd like to make a chocolate cake. It's things like this that make one's grocery bill so high, not the fruits and veg and grains really, but it's things like this that make one's home a nice place to eat, too, is it not?
On a furious, unplanned cabinet-organizing spree last week, I discovered that I own two boxes of powdered sugar - why? I literally never use powdered sugar. Ah, well. I cannot bring myself to throw it out. I will use some to dust over the tops of the muffins.
I prefer my muffins split, toasted, and spread with butter and maybe jam, while my husband and son eat them just like that, nearly whole in one bite, as though they are cookies. I think this must be due to impatience rather than true gustatory preference: they simply want to possess and consume the item NOW, rather than wait for a theoretical improvement to occur. They are small muffins anyway - or they look small compared with the boulders one buys at the cafe or bakery or diner - really they are normal-sized, or what used to be normal-sized anyway, before the boulders overtook the scene.
I can make muffins from scratch of course, and I shall some other day, but these are from a mix, because my mother inexplicably sent me a box of mix from Trader Joe's, and I do not wish to see it go to waste. I have added raisins and nuts - yes, I will certainly be needing more of those - and substituted coconut oil for the veg oil, just to make it feel as though I did something. Anyway, they will be a nice treat. My son will be happy to have one as his snack when he gets home from school.
I cannot decide if I ought to go pick him up, or if I ought to ask my husband to do it. The whole reason I am home-bound anyway is because I am in the middle of this awful, awful pregnancy - I mean, I'm happy to be pregnant, but really, this has just been horrible, one thing after another, and I do mean to tell you all about it one of these days - and today's ailment is a horribly aching lower back. It does not hurt if I sit very, very still with a hot pack, but if I get overconfident and start to move about too much, to make lunch, for example, or to bake muffins, it hurts again. So it certainly will start to hurt if I walk to school and walk back with my son - but does that actually matter? I won't die from the hurt. And it seems foolish to make my husband leave his office early, to come all the way from downtown, just to pick our son up at the school that is only three street blocks plus one avenue block from where I sit right now. It seems foolish, too, though, to do something that I know will make my back hurt, particularly since I will be working at the store tomorrow, on my feet most of the day, and oh Hell, am I teaching class too? I'm probably teaching a class; I'm always teaching one thing or another at the store on Saturdays, and try as I might, I never quite manage to remain seated while I teach, no matter how much my back hurts.
My husband ate two muffins. My son ate one, and then a piece of another, and then threw out the remaining piece and requested a fresh one. I fished the piece from the trash and forced him to eat half of it before I gave him a new muffin, which he was crying for, and I ate the other half - it had landed on a clean spot in the trash can anyway. With the third muffin, it became clear that my son only wanted to bite off the top, the part with the powdered sugar - after doing this, he requested yet another muffin. I told him no more muffins at all after this one, and managed to convince him to eat half of it by putting some jam on it. I gave the other half to my husband, who was in the middle of delivering a long lecture about the band Killing Joke. I almost always listen to my husband's musical disquisitions, even though they make me tired sometimes, because I know they're important to him, and also because it's polite, and also because it actually is rather interesting a lot of the time, and I learn things that I wouldn't have otherwise.
What I really want to talk about with my husband, though, is Norwegian black metal, because we just watched Until the Light Takes Us last night, and for whatever reason, I have a lot to say about it, even though I hardly know anything about black metal at all.