Hey, guys!

How are you?

My afternoon, alas, isn’t going too swimmingly.

I suppose, then, I should be grateful that I’m not a fish?

This is where I sit back and pause and reflect on how the phrase “swimmingly” came to be synonymous with “jolly good”.

Were some exceptionally cheerful people left adrift, and when the rescue boat arrived, they spontaneously broke out into song, and when the doctor said, “You’re dehydrated, malnourished, and in remarkably good spirts,” did they reply whilst treading water, “I’m doing swimmingly!”

They look innocent and harmless, don't they?

It was a reach.  Forgive me.

Anyway, I’m a bit cross today, but I’m working on it.  I feel thwarted in the kitchen, like every new recipe I try is an epic fail.

Every meal can’t be culinary genius, can it?

Fie! Fie! Red chard doth spite me!

I blame the red chard.

Silly me, I bought it because it looked pretty.

In reality, the lovely red stems are what I think are the plant version of “Danger! Danger!  Stay away!  Poison!” and I should have heeded that warning.

I did not.

Yuck, not even the pictures of this look very appetizing, do they?

No, I had to go and buy them just because I thought they looked purdy.

I put a piece in my mouth the other day, while chopping veggies for a salad, and literally spat it out.

Since I hate wasting food, I thought maybe cooking it would help.

I’ll give you a hint: it didn’t.

All of my favorite things...sullied up by that confounded red chard!

I sautéed them in olive oil, onions, and garlic and set them aside.

I prepared a nice, albeit a bit bland, potato and butter bean stew to pour over them.

I poured the stew over them.

I gagged.

I love butter beans, I love celery, I love potatoes. I do not love red chard.

I’m glad I was clever enough to prepare for potential disaster.

You see, I knew if I cooked the greens in the stew, their awful bitterness would permeate and ruin the taste of it.

Instead, I envisioned a creamy, rich stew enrobing a layer of perfectly cooked chard.

Then stirred gently to allow for the EVIL HORRIBLE AWFUL NO GOOD VERY BAD chard to mingle with the other flavor components.

Um, yeah.  No.

Red chard is bitter when raw and when cooked, it tastes just like dirt.  Bitter, spiteful, vengeful, jilted and dissed dirt.

Well, it’s going to get jilted and dissed again.  I’m never touching that stuff again.

It took over 3/4 pound of grapes to get that awful taste out of my mouth.

And, while I’m venting about hideous things, why is my house never clean?


Why do I sweep it, mop it, dust it, vacuum it, polish it, detail it, and obsess over it every. single. day. and it still looks like this:

I warned you! Dirty pictures.

This is just the stuff I swept out of one room.

And I just swept it yesterday.  And that’s today’s dirt.

No joke.

Did I gross you out?  I’m sorry.  I’m pretty repulsed, myself, too.

And gack!  That stupid chard taste is still in my mouth.

I'm already over halfway through the bag.

There.  Much better.

Are you a neat freak, or do you just go with the flow? I’m not as obsessive as I come across, I swear.  But it’s summer break and I’m bored and that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it.

Thanks for reading!

❤ Kaz