Sunday Gravy

Ive never pictured myself becoming a kept woman, but these days, not working is looking pretty good. Besides the fact that I spend an obscene amount of time either commuting or at my unfulfilling job, I have hardly any time to make the dishes I spend most of the day thinking about. Let alone do the dishes after cooking.
I had a dream last night that I was I housewife. But not just any housewife-- some kind of idyllic retro ethnic mother in an apron who had something simmering on the stove all day, every day. Dinner was served every night, and on Sundays, scores and scores of relatives would show up for an epic dinner-- Sunday gravy included. In between courses generations would argue about length of hair, opinions would be offered liberally, someone would end up in tears, and uncle Joe would mutter to himself throughout the whole meal. Before the espresso, however, everyone would be full and happy and at least one child would be asleep under the table.
And then I woke up. And realized that the inside of my fridge consists of condiments and string cheese. (Some very nice condiments, though)
This Sunday I want to make something yummy and comforting to go with the early fall weather. Seeing the first leaves on the ground always makes some people eager to break out their sweaters, but it makes me crave butternut squash, stews, and roasts. I'm thinking I will kick off fall with something old school...Chicken Cacciatore, or Boeuf Bourguignon. A sunday dinner worthy of the housewife in my dream. And hopefully, someone else will be kind enough to do the dishes.