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I took requests and cooked up some matzo ball soup for my taters.

Phil’s in New York for work again, another two weeks. I managed, quite nicely, to survive the first two weeks and can’t say that I missed him toward the end. But I can say that this time, day one, when he left Florida for New York, I missed him already.

Nothing specific, not his jokes or the way he’s so active with the children (always rough-housing with them, initiating riding bikes to the playground, whisking them off to the ocean so I can spend an afternoon writing), not his piles of “Important! It’s mess to you, but it’s orderly disorder to me.” Somehow I don’t miss him in the details. I don’t miss his TV, for sure. [And I swear I ADORE life without television during the week, especially because I believe it limits creativity and stunts originality in children. I so much prefer spending our nights playing “make believe.”] Though I do miss cooking for him.

No, I miss the gesture, trying to delight him, despite the fact that, unless it involves my garlic bread, I rarely do. Or if I do, I rarely feel as if I have because, let’s face it, he rarely communicates as much. I know when I’ve done something wrong, and this paragraph might be heading there, too–to a place I hadn’t intended to go. Because what I was really trying to say is that I miss my husband. I miss his commentary when he’s forced into my world of girl.  I don’t know the specifics of my miss, only that I feel it.

I guess I’m realizing that I need to be better about appreciating him without reminding myself of another side. To truly allow myself to enjoy him without weighing his less comely qualities. I feel like gently turning my face to look up at me, to tell those eyes, “You know, it is okay to like him.”

He’s staying with his parents. His mother emailed me for meal ideas. What could she cook, she wanted to know, that he might like? I laughed and said, “Good luck with that, lady.” Unless it involves some slab of meat or his own chili recipe, you’re shit out of luck. Aside from garlic bread, I suggested:

Steamed mussels or clams
Any kind of pot pie (nothing w mashed potatoes) as long as there are big chunks of chicken
Macaroni & cheese (he loves it!) w a rotisserie chicken
Any sweet treat like choc chip cookies or brownies
A Marsala mushroom dish of some kind with chicken

Then I emailed her recipes for oven baked risotto and for sea scallops with ginger lime beurre blanc.

Other good things while he’s been gone, things to show for it:

I made sticky rice pudding bars with coconut milk (but I definitely prefer good old sweet sticky rice with mango. Also, I despise shredded coconut because it has the texture of dry chicken, but I could make out with coconut milk. Not often, but I could. Yes, I steam my rice on an oil splatter guard, making cleanup a non-issue.)

Fun birthday gifting to friends (which means I’m wrapping gifts). Though I kind of like taking a personalized handmade card and having them press and fold it into an accordion.

Art. I’ve been drawing more, mindless sketch work. I miss that arts & crafts, your hands full of life, without a care for mistakes. Onward ho!