So I accidentally turned into a ’50′s housewife. E is working 8AM to at least 11PM seven days a week, so I have been making his lunches. Well, the food that lasts him all day, so 3 sandwiches, 3 pieces of fruit, and a power bar. I am also doing his laundry, as an Olympics Only special, since he doesn’t have time, and I really think he deserves clean underwear and socks.
Did you know there is such a thing as Sandwich Fatigue? There is. It’s what happens when I get in from work to stare at the sliced meats E bought for lunches, and think, “Oh God, salami, there you are again. Ham, I weary of you. Begone, beef.” I cannot even imagine how bored E is of eating them. I might make him Peanut Butter and Ham and see if he notices.
What did women of the nineteen fifties do about Sandwich Fatigue? Valium? Or was that the Sixties?
Anyway, it’s been on my mind for a while that the crew could use some treats. But one of them has gluten allergies, and she can’t just snag any old passing cookie. So I emailed my Swedish friend, Ulli, who is allergic to gluten, and asked for a cookie recipe. She emailed me back a recipe for some cookies called Kolasnittar. Really. Say it out loud. Obv, I have to make these cookies, because of the name. But first, I’m trying a gluten-free chocolate chip mix I found at the health food store for Donna, and the boys can have normal chocolate chip-oatmeal.
Why am I making gluten-free treats for Donna? I tend not to question my whims. But here’s what I think: Donna works long hours amidst burly men and holds her own. I’m stuck in the laundry/vacuuming/oh God, not-the-sandwiches-again 1950s and I’m throwing some love to the Liberated Woman. I’m saying, Thanks for kicking ass and taking names. Give me two weeks, I’ll ditch the apron and pointed bra, and be right there with you again.