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I’m a terrible multi-tasker. I like to think that I can juggle ten things at once, but I really can’t. The two things that don’t seem to be mixing well lately are my writing and my cooking.

I’ve been burning everything I cook for the last few days, but I’ve gotten a bunch of great writing done. Seriously–this manuscript is flowing so easily. It just pours out of me, chapter by chapter, and I tend to lose track of time. It’s great for the book, and bad for whatever meal I’m trying to throw together.

My husband works some long hours, and when he gets home from a twelve hour shift, he’s hungry. The other day, I served up some chili (burned at the bottom of the pot.)

Pot-o-chili[1]

“I’m really sorry,” I said. “It burned, but I think it’s still edible.”

“No, it’s good.” He tucked in and ate a huge portion.

“Does it have that smoky, bbq taste?” I asked hopefully.

He shook his head. “No, it reminds me of my grandmother’s cooking.”

“Really?” (Swell of love!) He was about to earn some Brownie points with that one.

“She always burned the beans,” he said.

What can I say? I’ll bet his grandmother was doing something else at the same time as cooking, too. And I’m sure it was equally important as messing with the love lives of characters on a page. We “interesting women” have to stick together and defend our burned beans to the bitter end. 😉

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