Just had a revelation. Often eating solo since my husband’s death, I don’t plan meals. Sure saves a lot of time, just grabbing stuff from here and there and making it “go” together. I love the creativity of it. Reminds me of my grandmother’s sewing projects – a bit of lace from this cast-off dress, some random buttons, one piece of fabric that was actually acquired for the project – usually from a salvage store.

I wonder where I got off on so much planning in the first place. Maybe to save the energy of daily inspiration? Maybe so my husband would be assured that life was under control? Maybe to impress? Whatever, I like this way better. Feels more like playing a sonata than assembling the instrument to play it on.