Like everyone else in the world seems to be, I have been going crazy for soup and for pumpkin flavored foods. Since I’ve vowed to never again worry about how much fat I’m eating (thanks to the Health At Every Size for taking that weight off my shoulders), that means I have no qualms about making a big pot of creamy, savory, pumpkin bisque and, because Elijah is so picky and Jeremy isn’t into pumpkin, eat it all myself. Unless Freja finds out I made it, then I’ll have to share.
My interest in the domestic arts is a complicated one, and should not be confused with an enjoyment of the domestic arts. Do I like the domestic arts? Sometimes, depending on which art it is. But mostly I can see how they are considered a drudgery, and why women have been so eager to escape them, and men have not been eager to pick them up.
I’d like to get a few things out of the way as I start this blog. I am not doing this to paint a portrait of my perfect family. We are not perfect, not as a family, nor as individuals (although in my somewhat biased opinion, Jeremy comes pretty close). I read a lot of homesteading and natural living blogs that do a pretty good job of painting a perfect picture, and a lot of criticisms of those blogs for doing so. I’m sure those families and bloggers lives are not as picturesque as they seem. Everyone puts their best foot forward when in the public eye. But it is not my intention to do that.