Apron Strings

I woke up earlier than usual for me on a Sunday morning so I could complete the textiles load of laundry before heading off to church. In said load of laundry was one of my two aprons--last worn by Sarah during prep time on the night of the Autumnal fete. I've never been one to wear an apron. Nothing against them--I just don't usually think of it. Anyway, after removing it from the laundry basket, I got the ridiculous urge to try it on. My slimmer figure gave me a new appreciation for this utilitarian item.

Because I'm wearing my favourite turtleneck sweater and didn't feel like removing it to make sundried tomato bruschetta & guinness meatballs (turkey meatballs), I decided to get some use from that apron. How useful these are!

At Williams-Sonoma this afternoon I actually saw a gingerbread man appliqued onto a bright red Christmas apron and I had buyer's lust (I didn't make the purchase on account of the fact that I've sworn off superfluous spending for the foreseeable future)--very strange, indeed.

So, the real point of this post is that I actually cooked tonight. Since my weightloss efforts were resumed in mid-May my approach to food preparation is very bare bones. I do prepare most of my own foods, but cooking has not been a source of creativity for me at all. I know there's a way to do low-cal, low-fat stuff that's involved and interesting, but that's not my approach.

These meatballs are neither low-fat nor low-cal. I am making them in honour of the fact that my sister will be staying with me this week and I wanted to have something special ready for her first night in town. We'll have them over whole wheat linguini with some sort of vegetable.

My dinner tonight will be sole fillet with garden herbed cheese w/asparagus in a tortilla wrap. Very low-fat. Very low-cal.

In other news, I've lost my steam with The Fountainhead. I'm not going to force it. In other, other news: I have it on very good authority that I've become a real Scrooge. Heard this today just as I was pondering that I understand quite well how good old Ebenezer got to that place of miserly misery.