WRITE, these are the demands made of me by my husband.
I can't believe that of all the people I know, it's my husband demanding that I write another blog. Wait one minute, yes I can.
All of the years we've been together, some married & some not ...(Oops! Sinners beware!) he has hounded me to write, to paint, to sketch to do something creative with my noodle. He calls it "Talent"
Personally, I don't get it; I don't FEEL creative (pinching fleshy arm). Rather I am just a wordy person and sometimes lucky enough to put an image to papers and sometimes able to squish play-dough into the shape of a critter or even able to snap a photograph that's appealing to others eyes, though not with any fancy schmancy equipment.
Creative though? nahhhh!
Heck I thought my creativity in the kitchen was more than ample enough. Our waistlines are ample which is indication. Tonight's fare, chicken Marsala for him which makes me want to puke up a lung, I am not a fan of fungus (mushrooms) yet I tackle all types of recipes that involve touching textures that make me want to wretch.
So that brings me to this point, brain is on lock down - what shall I blog about my pretties?
