Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Monday, July 18, 2011
I am a kitchen goddess....in training.
Many know that when a person has a problem, the first step to recovery is admission. The time has come for me to face my demise and admit I have a problem.
I am a terrible housewife.
Most notably when it comes to the art of cooking...well I just plain suck. When I was in college and taking 15 hour semesters and working full time, I loved to claim to be lazy and just pop something in the microwave and have dinner ready in just 2 easy minutes. I was really good at this. I knew microwaves inside and out. Directions? Please! When my Smart One directed me to cook my "pasta primavera" on high for 3 minutes, I knew that really meant 2 minutes and 30 seconds. It was an art form. I could boil water like no one's business. I thought I was the queen of Spaghetti Sundays. I was fooled into thinking I was actually good at preparing meals, given I had the time.
And then I graduated, got a fiance and became a stay-at-home, unemployed, shitty cook.
Reality sucks.
However, I was optimistic. I had loads of time to cook full meals every day of the week so...what should be stopping me from doing such a thing? I looked up recipes and went to the store to buy all the essentials. Oils, whole chickens, steaks, peppers, fancy cheeses, cooking wines, spices, steaks, etc. You name it, I bought it. I was focused and determined to cook gourmet meals for my soon-to-be hubby. I couldn't wait for him to brag about my cooking to others, to look forward to coming home from work and smell the luscious scents of simmering beef and chicken on the stove. Jordan was going to be so happy he asked me to marry him.
Reality sucks.
On the first day of my "I am a goddess in the kitchen" week, all hell broke loose. I wanted to make chicken tetrazzini. Only, I didn't have a pot big enough to boil a whole chicken. Thus commencing a 2 hour long and stressful process to which I don't want to relive by writing out the details. Then I forgot to get some ingredients, and only half of the others.
I had failed miserably.
No worries! Jordan's birthday was coming up and I could heal all wounds by baking him a creamy and luxurious chocolate cake. You know, one of those add eggs and water and the powder from the box and just stir and bake ones? Ya, how could I mess that up? I was determined once more to regain my goddess status.
Except I didn't know there was a difference between vegetable oil and olive oil when it comes to baking cakes...and all I had was olive oil.
No one ate the birthday cake.
And then I even forgot to give him his card.
I hope he's still happy he asked me to marry him.
My daily meals went from aspirations of delectable dishes to stress inducers. I now keep a bottle of whiskey right next to the stove, for it seems I can only get through boiling water without a bit of American Honey and Sprite (one of my new favorite mixed drinks).
Dreams of Jordan coming home from work to a kitchen filled with the lovely smells of his dinner cuisine quickly became him coming home to a stressed fiance and sentences such as, "I burned shit on the stove again."
After a couple more disasters in the kitchen it dawned on me that I would never be a goddess at the tender age of 23. Cooking was not a gift. Cooking is an art form one has to master over the years.
So here I am admitting I have a problem. It tears my heart up that I have reverted back to my college days of cooking skills. That most of our dinners require me to heat something on a skillet and let simmer for 8 minutes. But I won't let it get me down. I still have my whiskey and coke and a loving man who enjoys food no matter how it is prepared. So I have decided to take things slow. Do a major dish that requires an actual recipe (and not just directions on a box) only every so often.
I got brave and decided to tackle chicken tetrazzini once again last week.
And it was a success!
Perhaps I won't have to give my ring back afterall :)
I am a terrible housewife.
Most notably when it comes to the art of cooking...well I just plain suck. When I was in college and taking 15 hour semesters and working full time, I loved to claim to be lazy and just pop something in the microwave and have dinner ready in just 2 easy minutes. I was really good at this. I knew microwaves inside and out. Directions? Please! When my Smart One directed me to cook my "pasta primavera" on high for 3 minutes, I knew that really meant 2 minutes and 30 seconds. It was an art form. I could boil water like no one's business. I thought I was the queen of Spaghetti Sundays. I was fooled into thinking I was actually good at preparing meals, given I had the time.
And then I graduated, got a fiance and became a stay-at-home, unemployed, shitty cook.
Reality sucks.
However, I was optimistic. I had loads of time to cook full meals every day of the week so...what should be stopping me from doing such a thing? I looked up recipes and went to the store to buy all the essentials. Oils, whole chickens, steaks, peppers, fancy cheeses, cooking wines, spices, steaks, etc. You name it, I bought it. I was focused and determined to cook gourmet meals for my soon-to-be hubby. I couldn't wait for him to brag about my cooking to others, to look forward to coming home from work and smell the luscious scents of simmering beef and chicken on the stove. Jordan was going to be so happy he asked me to marry him.
Reality sucks.
On the first day of my "I am a goddess in the kitchen" week, all hell broke loose. I wanted to make chicken tetrazzini. Only, I didn't have a pot big enough to boil a whole chicken. Thus commencing a 2 hour long and stressful process to which I don't want to relive by writing out the details. Then I forgot to get some ingredients, and only half of the others.
I had failed miserably.
No worries! Jordan's birthday was coming up and I could heal all wounds by baking him a creamy and luxurious chocolate cake. You know, one of those add eggs and water and the powder from the box and just stir and bake ones? Ya, how could I mess that up? I was determined once more to regain my goddess status.
Except I didn't know there was a difference between vegetable oil and olive oil when it comes to baking cakes...and all I had was olive oil.
No one ate the birthday cake.
And then I even forgot to give him his card.
I hope he's still happy he asked me to marry him.
My daily meals went from aspirations of delectable dishes to stress inducers. I now keep a bottle of whiskey right next to the stove, for it seems I can only get through boiling water without a bit of American Honey and Sprite (one of my new favorite mixed drinks).
Dreams of Jordan coming home from work to a kitchen filled with the lovely smells of his dinner cuisine quickly became him coming home to a stressed fiance and sentences such as, "I burned shit on the stove again."
After a couple more disasters in the kitchen it dawned on me that I would never be a goddess at the tender age of 23. Cooking was not a gift. Cooking is an art form one has to master over the years.
So here I am admitting I have a problem. It tears my heart up that I have reverted back to my college days of cooking skills. That most of our dinners require me to heat something on a skillet and let simmer for 8 minutes. But I won't let it get me down. I still have my whiskey and coke and a loving man who enjoys food no matter how it is prepared. So I have decided to take things slow. Do a major dish that requires an actual recipe (and not just directions on a box) only every so often.
I got brave and decided to tackle chicken tetrazzini once again last week.
And it was a success!
Perhaps I won't have to give my ring back afterall :)
Friday, July 8, 2011
Children Not Required
It's July! And it's hot! Well, relatively hot because up here it's only 84 degrees....
And I love it. So yes, I am going to rub this in your face. I'm sure it will get a bit warmer from here on out. Like, maybe in August it will get to 90 for a few weeks. But then September will roll around and we'll drop down into the 80s and 70s again.
In your face.
Remind me about this post, though, when December rolls around will you? I am sure by then I'll be hating life and making a promise to God that I will donate $5 million dollars to the homeless shelter if I never have to go outside and brave the arctic chill ever again. While you guys down South will still be wearing bikinis and getting a tan.
Let's call it a fair trade, all right?
I am coming to you today to talk about absolutely nothing. Let's face it, I am unemployed and boring. Today I scrubbed three toilets. THREE. How exciting. Thank goodness I don't have to do this crap everyday.
Oh wait, yes I do.
Laundry, dishes, cooking, dusting, organizing, picking up Jordan's clothes, vacuuming, wedding planning, mopping, and grocery shopping. But my most favorite thing to do? Walking across the street to our mailbox to check the mail. When shit hits the fan and I am just having a terrible day, checking the mail always saves me.
Except those days when we don't get crap in the mailbox but a measly Khol's promotional slip. On those days I slip into a mild form of depression.
I'm kidding.
But I really do like checking the mail.
Since we are the new in the neighborhood and meeting all the neighbors, everyone loves to ask me if I have a job. When I tell them no, I seem to get a lot of responses like this: "oh my! You're going to get bored! You better start having babies!" It's like these people believe my life will be a waste of time unless I pop out 12 babies.
We disagree.
Anyway, Jordan used to ask me the same question, until he worked from home one day and saw me in action. He was surprised to learn that I don't watch t.v. and that I actually have a lot of stuff to do. What he didn't realize was this:
Jordan hates wearing his work clothes any longer than he has to, and I don't blame him. As soon as he steps foot in the doorway he trades his slacks and collared Polo's for his basketball shorts and cotton undershirt. And where do the work clothes go? On the couch, on the floor, on the random ass t.v. sitting in the middle of our bedroom floor serving no purpose at all (except as a place for Jordan to strewn his crap), in the kitchen, in the living room, and everywhere. Part of my daily tasks is to pick these random articles of clothing from multiple locations throughout the house.
Men. I will never understand them.
Being unemployed is not all that bad. I get to sleep til 9am everyday and travel to anywhere I want at anytime. I don't have to worry about taking time off of work and pissing off co-workers. If I want to go to Texas, I pack up the car and go. Of course, I have plenty of daily obligations as well. For instance, making sure the dog is fed and healthy, paying bills, watching our expenses and taking care of Jordan. but I also have a lot of freedoms too. I have the ability to do whatever I want in life - whether that's getting a full time job at a company, going back to school, writing a book, or raising 12 babies - I have the chance to live out my dream.
And if I end up having 12 babies...actually, let's not talk about that nightmare.
I have a feeling I'll get a job eventually. What type of job I have no idea, but hopefully something that is fulfilling and enjoyable. I have a few ideas of what I want, but getting them will be the challenge.
As for now I am content with wedding planning, traveling, and taking care of the house. I still suck at cooking, but I did manage to cook chicken tetrazzini the other day without it being a complete disaster. Hooray for me!
Jordan seems to like having a housewife as well. As long as he doesn't get lazy, it doesn't bother me to be domestic.
But dear god, I do hope something comes along soon because I am seriously not going to have 12 babies.
- Shirley
And I love it. So yes, I am going to rub this in your face. I'm sure it will get a bit warmer from here on out. Like, maybe in August it will get to 90 for a few weeks. But then September will roll around and we'll drop down into the 80s and 70s again.
In your face.
Remind me about this post, though, when December rolls around will you? I am sure by then I'll be hating life and making a promise to God that I will donate $5 million dollars to the homeless shelter if I never have to go outside and brave the arctic chill ever again. While you guys down South will still be wearing bikinis and getting a tan.
Let's call it a fair trade, all right?
I am coming to you today to talk about absolutely nothing. Let's face it, I am unemployed and boring. Today I scrubbed three toilets. THREE. How exciting. Thank goodness I don't have to do this crap everyday.
Oh wait, yes I do.
Laundry, dishes, cooking, dusting, organizing, picking up Jordan's clothes, vacuuming, wedding planning, mopping, and grocery shopping. But my most favorite thing to do? Walking across the street to our mailbox to check the mail. When shit hits the fan and I am just having a terrible day, checking the mail always saves me.
Except those days when we don't get crap in the mailbox but a measly Khol's promotional slip. On those days I slip into a mild form of depression.
I'm kidding.
But I really do like checking the mail.
Since we are the new in the neighborhood and meeting all the neighbors, everyone loves to ask me if I have a job. When I tell them no, I seem to get a lot of responses like this: "oh my! You're going to get bored! You better start having babies!" It's like these people believe my life will be a waste of time unless I pop out 12 babies.
We disagree.
Anyway, Jordan used to ask me the same question, until he worked from home one day and saw me in action. He was surprised to learn that I don't watch t.v. and that I actually have a lot of stuff to do. What he didn't realize was this:
Jordan hates wearing his work clothes any longer than he has to, and I don't blame him. As soon as he steps foot in the doorway he trades his slacks and collared Polo's for his basketball shorts and cotton undershirt. And where do the work clothes go? On the couch, on the floor, on the random ass t.v. sitting in the middle of our bedroom floor serving no purpose at all (except as a place for Jordan to strewn his crap), in the kitchen, in the living room, and everywhere. Part of my daily tasks is to pick these random articles of clothing from multiple locations throughout the house.
Men. I will never understand them.
Being unemployed is not all that bad. I get to sleep til 9am everyday and travel to anywhere I want at anytime. I don't have to worry about taking time off of work and pissing off co-workers. If I want to go to Texas, I pack up the car and go. Of course, I have plenty of daily obligations as well. For instance, making sure the dog is fed and healthy, paying bills, watching our expenses and taking care of Jordan. but I also have a lot of freedoms too. I have the ability to do whatever I want in life - whether that's getting a full time job at a company, going back to school, writing a book, or raising 12 babies - I have the chance to live out my dream.
And if I end up having 12 babies...actually, let's not talk about that nightmare.
I have a feeling I'll get a job eventually. What type of job I have no idea, but hopefully something that is fulfilling and enjoyable. I have a few ideas of what I want, but getting them will be the challenge.
As for now I am content with wedding planning, traveling, and taking care of the house. I still suck at cooking, but I did manage to cook chicken tetrazzini the other day without it being a complete disaster. Hooray for me!
Jordan seems to like having a housewife as well. As long as he doesn't get lazy, it doesn't bother me to be domestic.
But dear god, I do hope something comes along soon because I am seriously not going to have 12 babies.
- Shirley
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