I am obsessed with "Farmer Boy"--Laura Ingall's Wilder's book about her husband Almanzo's childhood in upstate New York. (Spoiler alert: it never explains where they got the name "Almanzo"--possibly, there is a missing chapter about a traveling circus?) This book has me convinced that our culture is totally, completely going down the tubes. Whenever I am feeling really inadequate—because I hate cooking and my kids have played way to many video games and I just can’t bring myself to mop up muddy dog footprints again, I think about Farmer Boy’s mom, and feel worse. For instance: this is what I make for dinner--
Open package of pre-cooked chicken sausage
Open bag of frozen gnocchi
Make all of this stuff hot and combine.
Congratulate myself that I snuck an entire raw onion into the sauce! This counts as a vegetable.
I wonder where I can buy some headcheese.
(Ok, I just Googled "Almanzo." According to thinkbabynames.com, in one of the Little House Books, Almanzo told Laura his name was passed down from an ancestors in England whose life had been saved in the Crusaded by an ancestor named Al Mansour! Well, how about that!)