I have a vegetarian cousin who does cook meat for her husband and daughter but has come up with all sorts of ways to avoid ever having to touch the meat.

Despite the fact that both TCG and I are omnivores, I would say that the majority of what I make is meatless, although far from vegan. TCG does know his way around the kitchen, thank goodness. I like to cook most nights, but if I don't feel well or I'm not home, I know TCG won't resort to fastfood like my stepdad.

My father-in-law has Ryan asleep on his chest. He's currently shouting into the phone in Shanghainese at his nephew (he's a lecturer in biochemistry, he always talks that loudly.) Ryan seems neither to notice nor care.

I like my life.

I like to cook most nights, but if I don't feel well or I'm not home, I know TCG won't resort to fastfood like my stepdad.

When my dad has to fend for himself for dinner, he'll pretty much always either order in or heat up a frozen dinner.

I like my life.

It sounds nice.

Not sure who I'm perfect for, because they haven't shown up yet--the only guys that think me liking guy things makes me more attractive aren't actually attracted to me.

Unfortunately for me, this guy isn't real: [link]

all this talk of fathers ability (or lack there of) just reminded me of a story of my dad in the kitchen. After grad school I was living with him for awhile. His gf (who does ALL the housework & cooking) went to Ireland for her yearly trip to visit her mother. So Dad & I were going to trade off "I cook, you clean" while she was gone. For the first week, I did all the cooking. One night, I was exhausted from work, so he said he'd cook. Rock on, gives me time to snooze on the couch. I wake up to find a can of beans on the stove. LITERALLY, the can of beans, with a low flame, cooking on the stove. I freak. WTF! "what's the problem? I removed the label this time. It's one less pot. I was doing it for you". Um, THIS TIME?!? apparently he has done this before. Ya, I cooked the rest of the time until Olive came home.

My dad not only taught me, and presumably my older siblings, how to cook, but he also taught my mother how to cook. Well, he taught me how to cook some things - I'm a whiz at cooking scrambled eggs on plain stainless steel and not having them stick due to his instructions. And mom taught me some things - essentially, how to read and follow a recipe. And yet, somehow it was mostly mom's responsibility to cook.

I can honestly say, that from the times Daniel has had a meal ready for me when I got home from work, it does feel good. But in general, I find even more pleasure from cooking together with someone. I love it at home with Daniel, and it is also a heck of a lot of fun at work. I tend to feel that the collaboration tends to make things even better than if I were working on my own.

Unless the collaborator is someone so inept that s/he thinks they are doing me a favor to start baking fish at 3pm for a 5pm supper, and then gets hurt feelings when I'm less than thrilled. But that is a story for another time.

My father-in-law has Ryan asleep on his chest. He's currently shouting into the phone in Shanghainese at his nephew (he's a lecturer in biochemistry, he always talks that loudly.) Ryan seems neither to notice nor care.

What a fun and beautiful mental image I have from this.

Go, MM! Much success to you!

(((Suzie))) I'm very sorry for your loss, love.

billytea - is Wallybee doing that stay-indoors-and-be-waited-on-hand-and-foot-for-the-first-three-months thing? Which I understand is traditional?

(By which I mean Not Allowed To Leave The House level of stay indoors?)

billytea - is Wallybee doing that stay-indoors-and-be-waited-on-hand-and-foot-for-the-first-three-months thing? Which I understand is traditional?

Yeah, not really. She is getting heaps of rest, which is just as well, because the schedule of providing milk for the little bub looks pretty brutal to me. And, she hasn't had to do housework, with me off from work and her parents living with us. But she's still up and active. She's been to a couple of lactation classes, taken the baby out for a walk or two, been to the doctor herself as well. Her family respects tradition, but doesn't feel bound by it.

We've actually swapped with her parents for the moment. Both Wallybee and I have colds (she had a bronchial infection too, which did see her ordered back to bed, but she's got more energy now); so her parents are dealing with the little fella and we're looking after the house. (I suspect in vain; Ryan's started coughing, and he seems a bit miserable tonight. I think he's been hit by lurgi, poor noodle. He is, thankfully, now old enough for child-sized doses of paracetamol, but it hasn't come to that yet.)

And then there's my situation, where I've had well-meaning but utterly condescending people tell me what a "catch" I am simply because I love baseball.

To this day, Lewis gets the "Damn you're lucky—" when sports come up in conversation and I'm involved. Dude, I loved football and baseball and any number of other sports before Lewis. (Hell, I was the jock, not him.)

And when I travel, if I have time before I leave, I'll make him a brisket or pork loin or something he can nibble on/use in various ways, but if I don't, then he's completely on his own. First time I did that, my mother was appalled. She was like, "What did you leave Lewis to eat?" and I responded, "Made sure he had plenty of money-- gas in the car is up to him." (Since he can never remember the ATM pin code.) She thought that was terrible, but then again, my marriage has lasted longer than any of hers.