The story of my regular day-to-day, and a silly reminder of two things: 1) It’ll never be perfect. 2) That doesn’t mean it isn’t damned good.
I accomplished my first appointment of the day without a problem. When my second client was running late, I decided to squeeze in a different client who owns a fabulous vintage style tea shop, where I also made reservations to celebrate my daughter’s 12th birthday. It was too cute not to!
I made my next stop, then met with the client who was running late with just enough time to spare to get to my final appointment when I realized I locked my keys in my…trunk. Oooof course I did. GAH!
Saving Grace: Volkswagen roadside assistance. They were so nice, and the rescue vehicle came quickly because he said he could “hear it in my voice” that I needed him ASAP. He broke into my car like a professional, then helped me fish my keys from the trunk through the opening in the back seat ( I did this in a skirt) with that glorified coat-hanger-thingie while my alarm blared, “YOU-DUMBASS-JEN!” and I made it to my last appointment – barely. The customers were more than gracious about my boneheaded situation.
I began the long drive home, ran to Whole Paycheck due to a request for nachos ingredients from my oldest child, had a shitty phone conversation I didn’t want to have, sat in traffic, ran to Staples because the printer was out of ink and my daughter had to type a report for science that’s due-tomorrow-Mom!
And so, instead of cooking dinner, I let my oldest handle the nacho-making. I, on the other hand decided to handle a glass of wine. Ten thousand distractions, some work emails, people who needed help with homework, a miniature cook who needed help in the kitchen, and five bites of dinner later, I returned to my bedroom, and my wine.
As I finished the last sip, something hit my lip. I figured it was sediment. I have been drinking fantastic wine from a small winery and their wines have a little sediment, so that’s where my mind went, but when I pulled the glass back from my face, I found that it was a dead fly. A dead fly. In my wine.
And so I spit it out. What? That was totally the most logical solution. I mean, I only spewed wine ALL over my black and white striped dress, my sheets, my face.
My daughter laughed hysterically. Seriously. She sounded like a hyena. A cute hyena. But, still.
Truth is, there are plenty of nights like this one. I come home from work, exhausted, and I don’t feel like cooking. We’ve been resorting to fancy-ass organic, uncured hot dogs on the regs, lately, and thank goodness my oldest son not only makes a mean gluten free pizza crust, but he and my daughter have both mastered the art of the almond flour paleo (shut up) crust for me. That means my family can eat dairy-laden gluten free pizza, while I munch on pizza made with almond meal and topped with chèvre. If that sounds like downright dog-shit to you, that’s okay. I’m going to fit into my wedding dress quite well, thankyouverymuch, and be really happy that I did it while not starving, because God knows I don’t believe in starving. And I feel quite fantastic eating Paleo, which irks me a smidge because I am not all-for any dietary restrictions that I don’t have to adhere to, but it’s hard to deny when you’re body is feeling good.
I have chicken roasting in the oven with golden beets and parsnips, garlic and herbs, and an acorn squash I roasted earlier and then chilled, cubed, and tossed with arugula for a salad. I’m willing autumn’s arrival.
Autumn is my favorite time of year. For one, I was born in October. This year, I’ll celebrate my birthday two days after my wedding. The leaves become golden and the air sings at a rusty pitch – think, Fiona Apple. This time of year, I’m generally smitten. I become smitten with coffee, with life, and with good books. I become smitten with layering (because who doesn’t love layered ensembles!?!?) and bookstores and roasting all sorts of good things to eat.
For a working mom of three who has kick-ass backups in the kitchen who happen to be a couple of tweeners named Mason & Sydney, I’m so thankful for the change of pace the cooler weather brings. I’m also thankful that Trader Joe’s sells organic chicken that’s pre-portioned and packaged with four drumsticks so ALL three of the tinies get one (even if I miss the thighs – because, again, who doesn’t love a juicy thigh? And even if it makes me wonder where the hell they get four-legged chickens). I’m also thankful that roasted root vegetables and chicken go together like, well, roasted root vegetables and chicken.
My very-near-in-the-future husband just called to tell me about something funny that happened at work (he is famous for interjecting hilarious one-liners in unexpected social situations), my thirteen-year-old is listening to Count Basie (once I told him Pharrell was in school band as a kid, he was all-in), and my daughter is reading next to me, while my little one mills about – shifting his interest between Count Basie and saying funny things to the girls while we hang out in the bedroom. The house smells like rosemary and garlic.
Life. Is. Good.
Roast some things. It’s an easy way to live.