The Toxic Housewife

Let me start out by showing off the wonderful present Mr. C and I received from my aunt: (Mr. C really wanted you to see his candy) She felt every good wanna-be-1950’s-housewife should have a good 1950’s-style apron when teaching a nearly-non-existent baking course. Receiving the package with the beautiful aprons was a fantastic pick-me-up. It’s so nice to have pretty handmade things, as opposed to the catastrophes I continually insist on creating.  Take, for example, the toddler-sized comforter I recently sewed for Mr. C:

NEWS! Heidi Klum and Seal are separating Katherine Heigl wore a daring one-shouldered dress to the premiere of her new movie The former Penn State head coach died and – now that he’s dead – we must suddenly highlight his triumphs instead of his sex scandals Two celebrities wore the same dress just days apart! A cop helped deliver a baby The captain of that Italian cruise ship is a scoundrel Justin Beiber and Selena Gomez got new haircuts (OMG!) So did former Sex And The City star Cynthia Nixon! Obama’s State of the Union address cautioned the middle class. You can see what Snooki looks like without make-up

I keep getting sucked into spending money. Like the $90 I spent on Mary Kay products when I swore I just wanted a $15 tube of eye cream. But I justified the expenditure by deciding that taking care of myself just a little bit each day would make me feel better, hence I’d be more industrious. To quote one of the ladies on my Meals On Wheels route, “You can’t give out cookies if your cookie jar is empty.” And, actually, I was feeling better by using my Mary Kay face wash, Mary Kay lotion, Mary Kay foundation, and (free!) Mary Kay mascara. “You have such wonderful coloring; that’s all you’d need!” claimed the consultant/devil. I felt polished and put-together and productive. I have been attacking my errands with gusto, and have spent the last few weeks doing all the chores around the house that I’ve heretofore found reasons to ignore. I felt great all the way up until the day that, freshly made-up and powering through my day, I had an acquaintance eye me sympathetically a...

The Good: Bee is home, and is making dinner tonight.  AND he didn't complain much about the dinner I'd made for his return, other than allude to it being as dry as the Sahara desert (and how is it my fault that it only took four hours to cook in the crock pot instead of the 6-8 suggested by the recipe?).  AND it only took him 40 hours to notice the bathroom renovation.  Bonus!

Bee returns tonight, so – as I write this – I am savoring the last few bites of Ben & Jerry’s Crème Brûlée. It is with wistful longing that I shove the last of it into my already uncomfortably-swollen belly. So why, you may ask, am I doing it? Why not save it and eat it tomorrow? Would Bee truly care to see me with these two other men? The answer to the latter is that no, he would not, which then gives us the answer to the former. To clarify: I am forcing the rest of the Crème Brûlée down my gullet because I don’t want to share. Does that make me selfish? Oh, shut up.

I hesitate even to post anything, as I've really nothing to report, and I don't like to blog just to blog.  However, I then realized my faithful spammers in Malaysia might interpret my silence as death-by-Toxic-Housewife-cooking . . . so I decided it was my duty to let you know I'm alive and just how uneventful was my day.   Maybe that's what's worth posting, though: the way your life can adapt, at least temporarily, to its changes, and to the absence of people who are normally around.

Oh, the shame I feel!  The guilt!  I have reached a new moral and emotional low whilst my husband is out of town, returning for another dangerous but  sinfully delicious tryst with not one, not two, but three  men: Ben, Jerry . . . and Ronald McDonald.

Day 3 of Bee's absence, and I think the universe is starting to feel sorry for us, so it has given us several breaks today.

It was just one of those days. I didn't sleep well, half due to the certainty a burglar was going to break in at any minute to steal my Ben & Jerry's.  The other half was due to our cat Cece, who seems to be getting a little senile and therefore insisted on jumping onto the bed (something he's NEVER allowed to do with Bee around) and snotting lightly all over my face several times before pushing under the covers to sleep.  For two minutes.  Before crawling back out and repeating the process.

Bee is gone for the week. I miss him when he’s gone; it’s always hard to sleep alone now. However, I’m also excited that he’s gone: it’s nice to do whatever I want without someone breathing down my neck . . . not that I can really do that, since Bee had the gall to leave Mr. C. Besides missing Bee and not missing him at all, I’m also irritated with him: he ran off without stocking the freezer with casseroles and other easy meals. I mean, he actually expects me to cook dinner all week?

Gee, mom, you're swell!  And these coordinating hand-sewn appliqued aprons razz my berries!  In yet-another dazzling example of allowing a tiny project to snowball into a huge web of distractions, I am now suddenly obsessed with 1950’s housewives because of my desire to teach a baking course. As you know , I am a terrible cook. Which only means that what others might ordinarily treat as a small triumph in the kitchen I, instead, magnify ten-fold into something akin to a glorious conquering of immense obstacles, which must be celebrated with jubilant and repeated exultation until everyone in the house is sick of me and my victory. When I tire of proclaiming my success to my immediate family (or, rather, when they stop even pretending to listen anymore), I turn to this blog: hence my numerous posts on, for instance, my bread , my piecrust , and my jelly .