this afternoon, i battled with a case of blah.
i even became crankier as the imminent heavy rain added to the humdrumness of my day. fearing that i would soon implode, i looked for something where i could successfully channel whatever negative energy i was having.
cooking was the answer!
trying my hand for the first time in preparing my favorite pesto (thanks to google for the recipe), it had me morphing into a beaming pussy cat when my three sons, who are non-pesto lovers, showered me with compliments after tasting my tuna pesto.
what warmed the cockles of my heart was being told by arthur, the older twin, that i would no longer be going to TOSH (the old spaghetti house) just to eat pesto because i already knew how to cook one. as you can see, my twin sons were witnesses to my love of this pasta (check related posts at https://wanderingjouster.com/2013/06/10/tosh-and-i-back-in-each-others-arms/ and https://wanderingjouster.com/2013/11/23/wandering-for-my-tosh-4/).
with my son’s comment, does it mean to say that i had partly succeeded in achieving the same taste as that of TOSH’s pesto?