Long after I decided to never wear a two-piece bathing suit, I noticed that a person can purchase a top, separate from a bottom. What a novel idea. I wasn’t so fortunate when I was younger and could never find a suit to fit me. I made my own.
In fact, I had to make most of my clothes because they just weren’t made to fit my body type. Apparently, teens aren’t supposed to have any curves or boobs. I was also just tall enough that all the ready-made pants were too short. My daughter has the same dilemma with the curves and boobs, however, she is vertically challenged.
Of course, I could have shopped in what they called the Missy Section, but to me, those were old lady clothes. My daughter could shop in the petite section, but she has found the same thing–old lady clothes.
I would like to believe I’m creative. Which I am, as long as I have a pattern and instructions. Precise instructions. I can tweak a pattern to make it larger or smaller, but in order to create something, I have to have something to start with.
The same goes for cooking. Splitting a recipe which calls for a can of cream of something soup is not easy to split. I suppose I could make an entire recipe and freeze the rest, but I have to Google everything to find out if it is freezable.
So, here I am, trying to decide how much ground beef to buy when I want to double the recipe that calls for one pound of ground beef. I want to buy 2 pounds, but the packages are always 1.32 pounds or some such figure–never 1.0 pounds. Precise, remember?
So, if my recipe is to turn out perfect, do I increase the rest of the ingredients by .6?
Ha! I don’t really care that much. I just fix whatever, and hope the cohabitants eat it. I appreciate a thumbs up if it’s a recipe I should use again. I really don’t like hearing six months after making a meal from a particular recipe, that it isn’t really that good.
Yeah, someone else needs to take on the grocery shopping and the chef duties.