this ain't yo' mama's sauce

My roommate proves to be quite the interesting character. I entered my apartment the other day to the smell of warm applesauce. To my surprise, I found dear roomie by the stove fierecly mashing some good-ol', homemade apple sauce with "a bunch of old apples" she had "lying around". How very grandma-esque of her. If I had old apples lying around, they'd be tossed in the garbage. Actually, I would never even have a multitude of apples just lying about. To think, I was impressed by the making of cookies from scratch. It's as if all of the homemaker-ish arts that seem to have been lost in the rest of my generation are somehow embodied in my roommate. I'm going to take a close look at her sweaters from now on. I bet she knit them herself.
Don't get me wrong. I do not mean to be poking fun of the girl. This all just strikes me as strange. I never learned such things. Perhaps I am secretly jealous of her skills as I sit in despair watching her make real food as I toast a pop-tart. drat