When I started this blog I had just come back from the World Race. I didn’t have a job or friends (in the area), so I spent my time blogging about everyday life. The boy I had a crush on. My parasite. Staying in on a Friday night. Wearing the same outfit three days in a row. Crying on the floor. You know, the usual.
Those are some of my favorite posts.
Somewhere along the way I started to feel the pressure that every post needed to end with a life lesson or else it wasn’t worth taking up sacred space on the Internet.
Also I got a job. And friends.
I stopped blogging as frequently.
When I don’t blog I always miss it. It helps me to cope with life. To write about everyday happenings is good for my soul, even if there’s no perfectly packaged moral of the story at the end of each post.
Today, for example.
My roommate Bethany and I went to the grocery store so I could get my fix of sparkling water. I was awkwardly holding a 12 pack of La Croix when I asked her what we should do for dinner. We tossed around the idea of pasta (again) or sandwiches. Blah.
I want to eat amazing things, but cooking stresses me out. I never learned. My mom was a doctor and then took time off to homeschool us (cooking was not on our curriculum, believe it or not.) My dad cooked weird things that didn’t go together – Asian and Italian, squid and sweet potatoes, for example.
I always feel guilty that cooking stresses me out, because compared to people in other countries I have it easy…aka I don’t need to start the fire before cooking my food. Also I don’t need to catch, kill and pluck the chicken myself.
But there I was, standing in the grocery aisle – sick from the cold that is going around and stressed about cooking dinner. Praying under my breath for a husband who cooks. Lawd please.
And then an angel appeared in the form of Mama C. She’s Southern and fabulous. Bethany stopped to chat with her while I picked up a recipe from the nearby cooking demonstration. I came back and showed Bethany, uncertain if we could pull this recipe off. We didn’t even know what a leek was. But Mama C made us believe we could do it. She said a yellow onion would do instead. “Really???” was our response.
She practically held my hand around the grocery store, showing us where the necessary ingredients were.
On top of that, she gave us an idea for dessert.
Beth and I came home and got to work. We chopped and measured, seasoned and sautéed. 30-45 minutes later, we popped dessert in the oven and sat down to eat.
Ummm, I’ll try to keep this PG. Let’s just say I practically made out with my dinner it was so good.
“Maple Mustard Glazed Chicken With Potatoes and Leeks (or yellow onions if you don’t know what a leek is)” – do yourself a favor and MAKE IT. Or make out with it, whateves.
After dinner we ate the baby apple pies we made for dessert (basically, apples baked in biscuits.)
So yeah. I went from having a meltdown in Publix to eating like a queen in my house.
Life lesson: cry less, cooking isn’t always so bad.