Bliss Between the Bedsheets

It is not uncommon to find me lost in moments of pleasure in my kitchen, movements mechanical and eyelids kissing. Today I felt sick pretty much from the get go and put it down to a little too much to drink- nothing a lot of water and bread couldn't fix, however pain and sickness followed and I decided perhaps I should just stay put. I hoovered up yesterday leftovers which turned into noodles with vegeburger and leftover bread. Ach. Bad choice. Although it was rather nausiating, it did line my stomach so I was spared puking. I love you, starchy carb compounds.
After a bath I did felt somewhat better and strayed back to the kitchen in search of something a little less gross. Real butter winked at me from it's leafy sheen of foil. Mmm, butter. And then- baguette. Ah. Cup of tea in hand I was slowly tearing off chunks of bread, slathering liberally in butter before savouring in one mouthful each slightly-too-big-to-be-called-bitesize piece. The rest of this half of the baguette was toasted, buttered heavily (as I made more tea) before strawberry jam was upended over the top. Oh yes. Oh yes. Here I sit in my dark duvet coddled state feeling every bit like the cat that got the cream. And the butter.

I read a forum post today about the ethics of food sharing and I found it extraordinary how many people hate sharing meals. As long as I can remember I've hated sharing anything spit covered with other people, especially drinks. I still feel a bit uncomfortable about it but generally speaking I think it's just a childhood thing, like not eating greens (which I have always loved, go figure). My ideal meal would be one in which everyone was able to share and taste a little of everything, and I also (as any who come over for dinner will know) love to share from the same plate or bowl. I think it adds a sense of connection with the other person(s) that you cannot experience from anything else. The only thing I do not like is uninvited people reaching and taking. I always offer everything I have, but refuse point blank to be "sea-gulled" by forks and fingers before my ass has hit the seat. I'll even share dessert... most of the time ^_~.

This leads me to a rant, quite on topic and relative to everyone except my mother. Don't get me wrong here because I love cooking for people and I cook with love. But sometimes I do feel... irked. A slight irritation, like a rash in my mind. It comes when I have been asked to prepare a lunch on the lawn, only to find everyone has eaten beforehand. It's one thing to bring a few sandwiches but I put alot of effort, time and money into such things. I warn people to come with their appetites.
It also comes when, after complaining of the above, people assure me that they will help on the financial front. It's a polite gesture, but is rarely held up. It is also not the major issue, so long as the lunches are eaten. It only becomes bothersome when I am left with sometimes up to £15 of food which I cannot get through in time.

I would have to say the most poignant thing in my mind at the moment is a comment from the Mr of the house a few weeks ago, which pretty much sums up how I feel people can come to view me. I, of course was cooking not one but two dinners to cater to the picky tastebuds of tired masses, and cooking them at different times whilst trying to use food economically. After listing a few things from the freezer, a meal was decided and I went to cook it. Mother was in the kitchen, and suggested I cook some meat from the fridge which would be spoiled soon and I obliged. I even went so far as to relay the change of meal plan to my Mr. His response is was appaled me - "But I want X, why are you cooking Y?". In the end I cooked X and Y sat in the fridge haf cooked until the next day when they were pronounced - the worst he'd ever eaten.
And that is why I would like to be shown respect from time to time. For some of you, it is just a thankyou or a compliment, a loaf brought along or a bottle of wine with dinner. For others, it is acknowledgement that I wash their clothes, cook their food, clean their dishes and do their food shopping as well as keeping their living space cleaned. And I am no one's mother. I do not have to treat anyone specially.
I do so because I love.