It’s been a scratchy kind of week and I have been feeling decidedly out of sorts for a while now.
The Melbourne heatwave, the vagaries of adjusting to the Batsman being at primary school (I miss him so) and an unexpected emergency ride in an ambulance for the Captain (he is fine now), have left me feeling wrung out physically and emotionally.
On a long weekend with three hot days stretching out in front of me, I couldn’t really work out what to do that would make me feel better. Lunch with a dear friend on Saturday helped and a Sunday evening out with the boys to eat gelati was fun too. But by Monday, the peace felt elusive again.
The Captain picked all the last of our summer produce in the cool of the morning, packed up the kids and headed for the pool. Just me and the humming airconditioner remaining behind.
I began to chop the remainder of our summer tomato crop, a plan of a sauce unfolding. The sauce worked its way into a couple of other dishes and before I knew it I had chopped and simmered and seasoned my way to tomato sauce, some braised chicken, some Bolognese, vanilla egg custard for the boys and a big batch of passionfruit cordial.
And I felt peaceful. Cooking in my kitchen really and truly brings me peace. It’s just that in the flurry of life, I forget sometimes.