Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

When I was at the museum with my friend yesterday, we decided to order a curry at the cafe, and lo and behold, it was scrumptious.  The beauty of the sauce, a creamy soft yellow, was worth the price, but tiny tofu chunks, sweet potatoes, squash, pepita seeds, lime leaves, coconut, and other delights caused us to eat slowly and savor every bite.  At some point we both said how we were sick of cooking meals at home.  But neither of us wanted to go to restaurants that often either.  We wanted a COOK.  Someone who planned and shopped for the meals, perhaps consulting with us as to the menu, but basically leaving us free in the late afternoon to read or listen to music until we heard a little bell for dinner.  We are both married to wonderful men who will chop and dice and occasionally shop, but the burden essentially falls on us.  I told her I feel like I've made every meal a million times, and even when I tear recipes out of magazines or browse my cookbooks, everything feels like a slight variation on something I've made before.  I wonder if I'd have dinner at all if it weren't for my husband.  So we laughed and felt the relief of admitting all the fun had gone out of meal preparation, and went home and in my case I sent my husband to pick up crispy chicken tacos.