YOU THINK YOU'VE GOT PROBLEMS?

Houston, we have a problem.

The point of this blog, for me, was to just write. Write, write, write. Remember? The anti-blab is the blog and all that? Well, as predicted by those in the know, I now blog AND blab. Will I ever write anything work-related again? Or is this my way of getting it out there that I want someone, anyone, to read and discover my writing? Or maybe get a book deal like all the other bloggers out there? Or just win the adoration of zillions of unsuspecting strangers? or or or...

Wait a minute. No one is actually reading my stuff anyway, so all that's highly unlikely... From now on I will treat this as my own version of the "daily pages" from The Artists Way. Remember that? Where you sit down and write three pages daily, even if you just write a bunch of garbage (hello!!!). Er, maybe I should scratch that, after all you never know who IS reading. Actually, I do know - a handful of friendlies and my husband, that's who.

Let's talk about a REAL problem. When did life become all about what's for lunch? OK I admit, it's always been about the food for me, but now that I'm the mother of two and wife of one I am obsessed with what everyone is having/eating/not-eating. Add to this my oh-my-god-I'm-not-earning-how-will-I-contribute-issues (ie the need to be a domestic goddess) and you've got yourself a whole new range of they're-stupid-but-they're-mine problems.

Compounding this is the fact that, as always, I am on a diet. So the problem becomes: how many cauldrons of WW veggie soup can fit on a stove alongside one son's meatballs (the only thing he'll eat these days) and the baby's it's-a-whole-meal-in-one chicken soup? (and what is up with all the dashes? Hey it's Maybe-I'll-add-these-in-all-day Day!). (Forget about the husband. He can fend for himself - Deli or Greek. Deal with it. ) I was never good at the probability problems in Math, but in this case it becomes more of a joke than a math question. And I am the punchline. For instead of, oh, I dunno, WORKING, I am going to have a day of shopping and shlepping and chopping and cooking. The results: a pot of something for everyone.

And then I can start worrying about what's for dinner. Now that's a problem.