When I first got together with my then-boyfriend, Life was Swell. I wanted to impress him with my 1337 cooking skills, and made all sorts of nummy-nummy's to fill his belly. Home-made pizza, lasagne with three cheeses, betyar fogas, you name it, I cooked it. He never complained (so he claims). I, on the other hand, remember when he was not so enthused about my ingenious (but not so tasty) combo of mac'n'cheese, hot dogs, and zomg couscous. It was not a good meal. Even I did not like it, but we ate it anyways. We won't even mention that polenta disaster.
I made cakes and pies and tarts and cookies. These days, it seems I make more ramen noodles and bean-like things than anything else, which are not always appetizing, but indicative of our broke-as-a-joke status. Do not fear, there will come a time when I will feel the urge to pick up a cookbook again and actually "Cook", but that day is not today. Enjoy your hot dogs and ultra-pasteurized cheese, puwheeze! That day may be closer than you think.
The Lazy Housewife
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