Sometimes I have to remember the good things in life, and today ended up being a good thing despite having started abysmally. (Of which beginning I shall say nothing; it is gone, it is evanescent as dew, or so I have declared it for this moment.)
Of course, I have a comatose laptop, which BB is laboring mightily to revive. God bless him - his life seems to be nothing but cranky computers these days, and when he hyper focuses on the things, it is impossible to draw him back into real life. I'm torn, of course, because we're such a computer-reliant family that his work is absolutely necessary. And again, there's a great part of him which actually likes pitting his wetware against the software ... but still ... his life deserves to be more than fixing the damned binary blues.
And just why do I figure that my computerless day was good? Because I cooked.
I think cooking is my therapy, along with very hot showers, very loud rock and roll, and sleep. And cooking dwarfs those in terms of being good for people other than myself. Mostly I bake, but today I also made an Indian-inspired soup and a sort-of Indian meat and potato dish.
The soup was completely vegetarian, with vegetable stock, a pound of carrots, one potato, an onion, some shallots, garam masala (first time I've used it, and I liked it), ginger, lime juice, hot peppers and shallots. The main dish was a first try at Aloo Gosht; I added some coconut cream, which wasn't called for, and used chicken rather than lamb (although I want to try it with lamb sometime), but I'm apparently incapable of not fiddling with recipes. BB declared both to be good, and I rather liked them as well.
I even got a couple of loads of laundry done, and figured out something that's been holding up the latest chapter of Hearts and Moons. I think I may have reverse-walked myself out of a blind alley. That? That is really, really pleasant.
So, yes. A weekend saved by cooking, the lovely and sharp aromas of which still suffuse the house. A good thing; a very good thing.