Disturbing

Maybe you've noticed a disturbance in the force recently. An eerie breeze that moves across your face, even when you're indoors. And that breeze smells like biscuits, or frying eggs, or grilling chicken.

What you're feeling is me making dinner at home. And then eating it. Usually.

The last time I ate at home this consistently was when I lived at home, and my mom made dinner. For the past, ohhhh, I don't know, 10 years I've eaten most of my meals "out."

Fine cuisine like Taco Bell, Chipotle, pizza, Panera. You know, health food.

Occasionally I'd go through a spell where I'd declare I was going to start eating at home. Then I'd have to force myself to make a plate of spaghetti once a week.

That's the other thing, I don't really "cook." It was within only the last year or so I could tolerate touching a raw chicken breast enough to put it in a pan to cook it. (Bleh, I'm still icked out by it though.) And there's no way I'd touch or attempt to prepare any other type of meat. So my homecooking mostly consists of noodles and frozen broccoli.

I know what you're thinking, "YUM! I'm going over to Gina's for dinner!" I get that a lot.

But the tide has turned. Ever since I moved, the adorable kitchen table and I have become... well, like peas and carrots you could say.

Speaking of peas, I love peas. So I had some for dinner the other night. I microwaved them myself, and had them with augratin potatoes and grilled chicken. Mostly I eat grilled chicken, usually on top of a salad with red peppers, cucumbers and dried cranberries. (See photo above) But last night I made scrabbled eggs with biscuits and gravy. More health food.

It's been nice, all this eating at home. The warmth of the kitchen. The cooking smells.

Now don't go and drunk dial any exes. It's not the end of the world.

Probably.