tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33489167.post8091275596237394064..comments2023-09-29T04:48:20.796-07:00Comments on A Musing Farf: Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04903019864486016667noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33489167.post-4911559749370138012007-10-02T15:39:00.000-07:002007-10-02T15:39:00.000-07:00Master bakers? Ha ha ha! (Yes, I need to grow up...Master bakers? Ha ha ha! (Yes, I need to grow up and/or get a life.) I'm sorry I missed the party, although I needed cookies like I needed a hole in my head. And may they fire Willie Randolph for not doing anything except sit there patiently while the team imploded.Suzannehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16279999850117456433noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33489167.post-48349250263499889202007-09-30T15:02:00.000-07:002007-09-30T15:02:00.000-07:00Gender roles aside, there is something inherently ...Gender roles aside, there is something inherently loving in the act of preparing food for those that you love. Sometimes, with J’s crazy hours and my new-mom exhaustion, I threaten to stop making dinner. It would be easier – I could eat when baby A eats and I would not have to go to bed on a full stomach/stay up extra late to digest a meal eaten at 8 because J has worked late. But there is something about the act of selecting, preparing, and serving food – nay, nourishment – to the people I love that keeps me at it. So maybe you are like me in that regard.<BR/><BR/>That said, I know the exacting tastes of your spouse and can imagine he’d be hard to cook for. . . . .Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com