crap I say, entertainment, humour, life

For the love of peeling potatoes

A potato saved me today.

Actually, to be completely and embarrassingly honest, it was a bag of potatoes.

and a potato peeler
and Dean Martin

Let me begin by saying I owe you all an apology…I have not been myself lately. For those of you who’ve known me long enough, I’m sure you’ll agree that my latest posts have been a little out of character. For those who’ve only just met me…I am NOT, in fact, a psychotic pessimist. I’m sorry if I’ve disappointed you…

I don’t even think I wrote those posts.
I’m serious.

Get out your tissues, as I’m about to tell you how bad life has been for me lately, how stressful my job is, how tired and emotionally unstable I’ve been…

….oh, that’s right, I’ve already done that in my last few posts.

ok, well I’ll tell you about the potatoes then, ok? I promise it has a happy ending and not a single “F'” word in sight!

I think there is a reason potatoes are called the “humble spud”. I realised tonight, when I got home from work unusually early for once, that I have not cooked my family a meal in about a fortnight. Oh God I can hear all the cries of “bad mother” and “selfish woman” now!!!

Don’t get me wrong, my family has eaten (as far as I know) but as busy lives tend to create a need for instant meals and restaurant outings, I haven’t cut, peeled, blended, baked and “1950’s house-wife’d” in as long as I can remember.

And I think that it is much more important than I realised.

Usually, whilst preparing the family meal, thrown together in haste after rushing in the door head crammed full of work stress and urgent issues I can’t let go of, I would listen to jazz or “Chillout Session” (insert relevant copyright here) in the hopes of becoming instantly “relaxed”.

But tonight I turned on the “crooners” channel and I found myself smiling.

As Dean Martin serenaded my softer side, with tales of love and longing, romance and feelings most of us living today probably don’t understand…I began to feel relaxed…genuinely relaxed. The kind of relaxed you only get from feeling completely safe, loved and “home”.

And as I listened….and hummed….and swayed…gently in time to the familiar, timeless tunes…pulling the potatoe peeler firmly and assuredly over the potatoes, I felt I was slipping back in time…

Back to a simpler time
Back to a more grateful time
To a time less stressful…

I prepared the entire meal in that state of mind. Feeling grateful for the food and for the simple pleasure of being able to prepare it. For the job that provides the money for the food.

My job is still there, my stresses are still there if I choose to see them. The hustle and bustle and imaginary emergencies are still at my disposal. But I think this view of life suits me far better.

So, even though I really do like Jazz and Chillout, and even though I don’t half mind being taken out for fancy dinners, and because (actually) I HATE mashed potatoes…I think I will be having spuds with Dean Martin more often.

Try it sometime 🙂

keep it real and keep smiling

Mandy xx

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