So, dinner is served for the year. I might attempt a last ditch autumnal effort over a campfire, since fire food is so great and so infrequent.

I enjoyed the housekeepers for the long, first visit. My greatest joy was trying to think up little dusty spots that I had never thought of before and check to see if they were clean. AND they all were! This is fun. I played with my babies, guiltily, the whole time the two women scrubbed my house on their hands and knees. So I like it.

Now the onset of Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas have got me rustling around.
Costumes: finished early, army guy, Boss Hog and Black Bart
Thanksgiving menu: planned and delegated
Christmas: budgeted, little gifts purchased, big gifts list finished, meal still undetermined

So it's nothing but work work work here in Betty Crocker'sville. I hope to have Christmas presents wrapped and forgotten before November is through. I'm planning on finding a caterer for Christmas dinner, since I'm the only one who likes to cook, and I don't like it THAT much. I'd like the only weight I gain to be from eating, not from stress this year.

My young husband is starting a second job. He will no longer be the renaissance man that he has been thus far, changing diapers, washing laundry and cooking dinner with me. So, I must now face being an entire-house-wife for the first time. I am not looking forward to it. I am taking reading list suggestions.

Hail the conquerors. Long live Vitables.

So, the pistou and the beef bourguignonne were the most expensive and delicious dishes so far this season. But the evening was a little more flat than I would have like. Although, the impromptu bellydance class on the front lawn was a big help, (thank you, K).

I worked too hard. Guests kept arriving at all times, so I had to keep getting up and helping them get food. My husband/cohost was sick from a shot in the arm, so I said I would cover for him in the childcare division. Baby spoons, explaining why kids wouldn't like wine, picking up dropped food and chucking it into the yard rather than going inside the house to throw it away, etc.

Notes for next time, REALLY feed the kids in advance. REALLY get a kids video from the library. Don't help late comers figure out the soup. Bring all the wine out to the porch at the beginning. And don't actually cook for two days straight.

That being said, it was great to close out the season with good friends and good food.

So, we will not say good-bye; let us say "adieu."

Pistou
So this recipe has a lot of threes in it.
3 onions, halved and slivered
3 carrots, quartered and sliced thinly
Saute for 3 minutes in olive oil

3 zukes or yellow squash, halved and sliced thick
3 potatoes, scrubbed, cubed
3 fistfulls of green beans, cut one inch
3 14 oz cans of cannellini beans with broth
Dump all into 15 cups of soup stock

Bring to boil, reduce heat, simmer 15 minutes.

Salt and pepper.

Add a heap of pesto (oh yes, oh yes), and enjoy with bread and butter.



So, I made this soup today, so that I would have less work tomorrow. I have invited 15 people with about 11 rsvps yes. I have about 3 known bottles of wine coming and 3 potential loaves of crusty bread coming. So, I will be running out the market for one or the other at the last minute. The other experiment will be to see if folks like southern France cuisine, and if not, why not. (And also, more leftovers for me!)

So, off to bellydancing. Shake it like you rented it.

So hard to find good help these days, right? Thursday, I embark into the land of the hiring the help that I shouldn't need to run my house. I am in disbelief that for ANY amount of money someone should want to clean this house, since I obviously don't. I won't believe it until I see it; until I see the tub brilliantly scrubbed at the same time as the kitchen immaculate, at the same time as the house vacuumed, AT THE SAME TIME AS the laundry done and put away. I feel a twinge of guilt that I am supposed to feel, afterall, my career is my home. But of all the jobs, cook, maid, governess, nanny, manager and chauffeur, scrubbing pots and baseboards is the one I like the least. So, bring in the ladies of the day and let me play with my babies. One could get used to having other people doing one's work. The secret to my success? Move into a tiny, crappy little half of a house and live like a king. But you don't have to take my word for it.