What's For Dinner

It has taken some time, but I finally am starting to cook and bake again and it feels great.  I think getting Little Man back to school and being in a routine has helped immensely.  And I definitely had some great inspiration from going out during our staycation.  

Last night, we had eggplant ragout with homemade bread sticks.  I also made a loaf of whole wheat bread for lunches and banana bran muffins for breakfast since the oven was already on.  It got a little toasty in here last night.

Friday night I came home from working out to this:

Hubby cooked me salmon with roasted sweet potatoes, portabello mushrooms and spinach salad.  He is amazing.

Saturday night we had pizza.  Our latest and greatest invention was a pie with homemade pesto sauce, fresh spinach leaves, roasted beets and goat cheese.  I could have eaten the whole dang pie myself.  But then I wouldn't have had room for the macaroons my cousin made.  And they were sooooo good!

I was all set to tell you about this awesome chicken dish we had last week, too.  But I can't remember what was in it.  I think it was a white wine sauce with loads of fresh veggies from the farmer's market.  Spinach and peppers, onions, mushrooms.  Hard to go wrong with loads of fresh veggies.

Little Lady and I will head to the farmer's market again this morning and make another large batch of pesto today.  Hopefully we'll then have enough to make it through winter.  She's a good helper at the market and in the kitchen!

Today is September 11th and I feel a little weird writing about food.  I remember the shock, confusion and fear of that day, followed by the immense sadness.  It was 11 years ago.  All I can think about is how time makes it harder when you lose someone and I feel so badly for the people left behind, mourning their loved ones.  May God bring them peace today.

We have a birthday coming up this week.  I'm feeling weird and sad about that, too.  Last year on J's birthday we were in Portland.  We ate Voodoo doughnuts and I went to the Grotto and sobbed at the feet of Mary holding Jesus.  Two years ago we had cake in an ICU waiting room, terrified for our boy.  Three years ago, we had ice cream sundaes at home and watch J open a million gifts from the resale shop.

He was two when he had his last "real" birthday.  And Saturday he should be turning five.  I don't know if we'll make a cake or have ice cream, cry or sing, but I do know that our heavy and broken hearts will be celebrating our Jameson and wondering what five is like in heaven.