I love to cook and I think I've got quite a flare for it, although my hubby is the more famous chef around here.
One of my favorite dishes is a family recipe for French Meat Pie. Until this year, I've reserved this recipe for the time around Christmas and New Year's. Meat pie is hearty and delicious, ground pork and beef seasoned with minced onions, sage, nutmeg, and cinnamon, thickened with instant mashed potatoes and baked in a double crust, then served up with lots of brown gravy. Yeah, it's that good.
Today I decided to buck tradition and make it for supper. I was at the stove, stirring the filling concoction on the stove, when I heard EJ, one of our 2-year-old day care care kids.
"Bella farted," he told my husband.
"No, EJ," my hubby replied. "Miss Lynette is cooking." I heard peals of laughter from children.
So that is why my cooking smells like farts.
I finished a synopsis for a historical novel proposal tonight. We'll see what happens with that. Right now, I like how it feels and where the hero and heroine are right now. I have so many other little writing-related projects to complete, critiques to return to friends. I think I need more time. Got a spare hour or two?