This journal documents the author's experiences as a television writer. To read the story from its inception, go to the beginning.

October 29, 2001

In a jiff
My significant other happens to be an extremely gifted chef. With amazing regularity she will create spinach and onion tortes; flowerless chocolate, raspberry and walnut cakes; intricate salads featuring homemade anchovy-flavored sauces, shrimp, scallops, saut�ed potatoes, and every possible ingredient from asparagus to things I can't pronounce. She stir fries lotus root, whips up waffle batter from scratch, and is on a first-name basis with mace, cumin, and zest. When she cooks me dinner, which she graciously does quite often, she frequently cooks two or three main dishes and an equal number of side dishes. And it is not uncommon for dessert to feature a homemade sorbet, tiramisu, or one of the endless treats she is constantly devising.

Although my significant other and I have been together for the better part of a year, left to my own regards my eating habits revert to the rather plain, uncomplicated diet of my twenties. PB&J. Tunafish. Honey Nut Cheerios. I am attracted to boxes that read "Kraft" and "Aunt Jemima." I shun the glaring brightness of produce, meat, and seafood aisles.

Growing up I rarely had a home-cooked meal. Most nights my mother -- and later myself �- would pop a Swanson's TV Dinner into the oven. I estimate I ate well over fifteen-hundred of these before I became old enough to routinely prepare other foods. And even then, these were the gastronomic creations of a ten-year-old. Spaghetti and Ragu. Anything that could be eaten between two slices of bread.

I would like to think there is a master plan. A grand scheme. That my girlfriend has entered my life partly to make up for the culinary indiscretions of my youth. That a childhood of subsistence eating has prepared me for the many years of base nourishment an artist's lack of funds seem to engender.

Today the assistant to my agent called to say that my agent "just hasn't had a chance to read" the script revisions I FEDEXed over a week ago. And all I can think is thank God I haven't lost my taste for PB&J.

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� 2001 - 2002 tv writer. All rights reserved.