1950s, here I come
Today was most domestic. I sewed. I went grocery shopping. I used the oven/stove (what's the difference?) without burning down the house. I'm quite impressed with myself. I actually quite enjoyed it.
I'm turning my old jeans into a skirt, so that involves my mother pinning things up each evening and me spending two hours watching "Dr Quinn, Medicine Woman" on DVD and attempting to sew in a straight line each morning. I also stab the couch with those pinny things that have shiny colourful spheres on the end, and failing really hard at tying the thread. But that's okay. I'm about a quarter done, and while the stitching's awfully zig-zagged, you can't tell unless you flip the skirt inside out.
Between my sewing and cooking, I ran and worked on my play so I can send it to Chanaleh before I leave for Winnipeg (side note: Oddly enough, the movie "Stryker" has made me awfully curious about Winnipeg gangs. Unfortunately, gangs don't have websites, so I can't do too much cyber stalking of the Indian Posse or Native Syndicate or the Asian Bomb Squad). But neither my 5 km run and 4.5 km walk back home nor my writing sesh are very 50s housewife-y, so you needn't know much about them. Besides, I do the play thing rather frequently and I'll pretend I do the running thing rather frequently as well, so they're really not as exciting as pie-making.
I decided to start supper at four o'clock, which is good because by the time the 'rents were home and ready to eat, my masterpiece was just cooling. I made a veggie pot pie, and began with the crust. I'm exceedingly proud of my crust. It's buttery and flaky and om nom nommy to the max. But that only took twenty minutes, and then I went out and spent seven dollars on potatoes, onions, carrots and broccoli. I had to Google things like "how to boil a potato" and "how to slice and onion" but I go through it all. It's actually not that hard, veggie pot pie-making, and I don't have to do dishes tonight because Mother Dearest believes that those who cook ought not wash up. I had great fun sautéeing the onions and carrots - I brought my laptop to the kitchen and sang along to annoying pop songs that were über popular two summers ago. Even my off-key garbles, though, failed to rouse my cat from his lethargy.
Anyway, now it's post-cenam, and Mummy is going to help me pin fabric to my cut-up jeans so I can sew the back tomorrow morning. I'm even contemplating making supper again. Pot pie won't do, and I'd prefer something that involves the oven, not just the top of the stove, so I'll have to scour Epicurious for recipes first.
Hugs from Stepford!
I'm turning my old jeans into a skirt, so that involves my mother pinning things up each evening and me spending two hours watching "Dr Quinn, Medicine Woman" on DVD and attempting to sew in a straight line each morning. I also stab the couch with those pinny things that have shiny colourful spheres on the end, and failing really hard at tying the thread. But that's okay. I'm about a quarter done, and while the stitching's awfully zig-zagged, you can't tell unless you flip the skirt inside out.
Between my sewing and cooking, I ran and worked on my play so I can send it to Chanaleh before I leave for Winnipeg (side note: Oddly enough, the movie "Stryker" has made me awfully curious about Winnipeg gangs. Unfortunately, gangs don't have websites, so I can't do too much cyber stalking of the Indian Posse or Native Syndicate or the Asian Bomb Squad). But neither my 5 km run and 4.5 km walk back home nor my writing sesh are very 50s housewife-y, so you needn't know much about them. Besides, I do the play thing rather frequently and I'll pretend I do the running thing rather frequently as well, so they're really not as exciting as pie-making.
I decided to start supper at four o'clock, which is good because by the time the 'rents were home and ready to eat, my masterpiece was just cooling. I made a veggie pot pie, and began with the crust. I'm exceedingly proud of my crust. It's buttery and flaky and om nom nommy to the max. But that only took twenty minutes, and then I went out and spent seven dollars on potatoes, onions, carrots and broccoli. I had to Google things like "how to boil a potato" and "how to slice and onion" but I go through it all. It's actually not that hard, veggie pot pie-making, and I don't have to do dishes tonight because Mother Dearest believes that those who cook ought not wash up. I had great fun sautéeing the onions and carrots - I brought my laptop to the kitchen and sang along to annoying pop songs that were über popular two summers ago. Even my off-key garbles, though, failed to rouse my cat from his lethargy.
Anyway, now it's post-cenam, and Mummy is going to help me pin fabric to my cut-up jeans so I can sew the back tomorrow morning. I'm even contemplating making supper again. Pot pie won't do, and I'd prefer something that involves the oven, not just the top of the stove, so I'll have to scour Epicurious for recipes first.
Hugs from Stepford!