Bu instead, I sit there, sight at the unfairness of it all and trod on.
I don't have a choice. The trodding pays the bills. This doesn't.
One can always hope that changes one day, that my writing will take off and soar into new unfound heights of financial freedom. But today it sits like a cement pigeon on my stoop. Flight potential is, uh, unlikely.
Probably one of the reasons I am inspired to cook is because right now anything sounds better than the daily grind I am doing.
Oh, and I rediscovered the Pioneer Woman.
I got turned on to the Pioneer Woman by some women on a mom board. Someone raved about a recipe, posted the link and the rest is history. Well, sort of. I fell in love with the site and then lazily drifted off doing silly things like having a baby and enduring ensuing sleeplessness. Apparently it was love of convenience only. I'm fickle like that.
But last night, looking for distraction, I happen back upon her site. Dang, it's busy! I read her Black Heels saga and learned about aperture (bless you, PW). And that I should get to bed earlier but that is a different post.
And true to past form, she makes cooking look fun and relaxing. Like I should be popping a frittata in the oven and sitting down on my porch a spell with my iced tea in hand.
Cooking is so deliciously different from my Daily Grind (yes, I decided it needed to be capitalized as I will continue to use that phrase in favor of the more colorful ones I sometimes use to describe my work -- I'm sure HR knows Google) that some days I look forward to it. Especially when there is risotto involved.