Cooking Blog Episode 2- The Foodening

Okay so I don’t feel that my cooking blog was all that spectacular, so here’s take two. A bit more details, etc.

Here’s a small background for you. I was raised in a semi-strict household. I wasn’t allowed to use the microwave until I was 11 and wasn’t fully trusted with it until I was 12. So that meant that I only knew how to use the microwave. Oh sure. I got to help stir things on the stove, but they were vegetables, not the main dish. My me-ma would let me help her a lot when I was younger. I remember standing up on a kitchen chair next to her so I could see over the counter. (Little kids are supposed to be little, but I was down right tiny.) So I would help her stir and she taught me how to measure. The part about this that I treasure and always will is that she was blind. She completely lost her sight by the time she was 60. But you couldn’t tell with the way she cooked. And she was a good southern lady who knew her stuff. I still make some of her recipes and will continue doing so.
I come from a background of cooks. My me-ma taught my mom everything she knows, and my dad is a chef. Once I got to a certain age, it was just a matter of time before the cook in me took over. I spent how ever many hours I could watching cooking shows and I couldn’t get out to the kitchen fast enough when it was time to make dinner.
My dad was the first one to notice my fascination and took me under his wing. I might have only been allowed to use the microwave, but he started teaching me how to cook. He would work with me one day or two out of the week (his days off) and then quiz me on it the next week. I was a very eager learner.
It didn’t take me too long before I was the one cooking dinner and he stood back and supervised, always there if I had a question. And let me say that my mom was very supportive and had even started letting me help her with dinner. I moved up my position from “taste tester” to being able to put dinner together. She would chop veggies or ,meat or whatever and I would put it in the pan. But still it wasn’t enough.
And then the day I’ll never forget… The day I discovered Food Network. Oh my god! The fact that such a channel existed had me and still has me fascinated. Back in the day, I watched a ton of tv. All of it was the Food Network. It seemed I couldn’t get enough. I even watched those infomercials about things like The Magic Bullet and George Foreman’s Grill, things like that.
Once I got trust from my parents, I was allowed to cook in the kitchen, alone. I made whatever I had learned, scrambled eggs, french toast… things like that mainly. It was fun, but still it wasn’t enough.
Fast forward a few years and I had learned a lot more, but no longer was it just from my parents. I had thrived on watching the Food Network. But here’s the thing. I never wrote down the recipes, I just absorbed them. I still helped in the kitchen, but it had gotten to the point that I was allowed to make dinner. Hamburger Helper was the first official meal I made by myself and I was so happy.
I don’t remember how old I was, but I do remember that I told my dad that I wanted to make Chicken Parmesan. He helped me figure out the cooking times and measurements. Also, because I didn’t feel too comfortable with it, he handled the raw chicken, meaning he cleaned it for me and put it in the baking dish. I just told him what I wanted in/on it and took care of the rest. That night it was clear to everyone that I knew my stuff.
But still. I’m not kidding when I say that until I turned about 16 I had to beg my mom to let me make dinner. I don’t think it was so much a trust issue with her as it was, I was growing up and she didn’t want to face that reality. But that’s another blog for another time. Also let me say that I don’t blame her and I’m not mad at her. I just wish we could have come to our understandings sooner rather than later.
So I continued watching the Food Network and then I figured out you could find recipes on the internet. Oh happy day! I spent how ever much time I could around food. Back peddle a bit. Little kids are famous for making mud pies, yeah I know, but I wouldn’t just make mud pies. I would make soups and other things outside. And when I discovered those little red berries, I got lectured about not eating them or anything I created. ….No shit, Sherlock.
So anywho.
I had also discovered my mom’s cook books and spent a lot of time studying them, letting my mind wander on how I could tweak the recipes, etc.
Currently, as you know, I’ve really been spreading my wings to as far as they’ll go at the moment with cooking. And I’ve become obsessed with keeping the pictures of them. I’ve been absorbing myself in food. I get books from the library, and if it were possible I would be watching the Food Network. I don’t mind that I don’t have TV right now, I just miss that channel. lol
One of my endeavors that I’ll probably be working on soon is I’m going to perfect some of my sauces. I’m planning on making meals completely from scratch and I’ll want the sauces to go a long with it. It’s always been my goal to figure out food things anyway, but now I’m finally making it happen.
One of my biggest dreams is to have my own restaurant. I want to create recipes for it and then teach the people that I hire how to cook it. I’m not sure how good of a teacher I am since I never really pay attention to what I’m doing. I just do it. I need to slow down a bit and maybe have my sister-in-law sit in the kitchen or cook with me.
But anyway. I love food. I’m a foodie, but I have no interest in going to school for it. Oh sure, I can appreciate to a certain level gourmet cooking, but I have no desire to learn about it. If I go to a school to learn how to cook, I will have to undo what I’ve been doing to learn it a different way. Which would normally be fine. But there’s one minor detail. I have to compensate on how I do almost everything, not just cooking. I won’t go into a ton of detail, but living with nerve damage can be a bitch. I’ve gotten a good rhythm in the kitchen with how fast I can go, how I chop things, etc. I don’t even want to think about having to lose that ability because I’m not doing it the “proper” way. Which I know is something a lot of people deal with, and I would be happy to do the school thing if I could have the guarantee of them not changing my style, but that’s not how those places work.
…Not the tangent I want to get into right now, although it seems I already did. lol

I plan on making the best, or at least what I think is the best food. I want to make food that catches people’s attention all while staying true to myself. I watch the pros then I try it myself. If I find something challenging then I change it up a bit to make it easy. Hubby was saying to me the other night that I was a good cook, and I know I’m bragging, but he’s right. His reasoning was because I took the extra time to do things that not everyone thinks about. How I go that extra step to make it extra yummy. And he’s so right. Only thing is I never think about it. I never think, when I’m preparing food for myself that is, about what techniques I’m using. I don’t think about the spices I use most of the time because I just know it’ll taste good. And so far, I can honestly say that I’ve had 3 bomb dishes. And by bomb I mean bad. Oh sure they were still edible, but they in general sucked. If I can keep that kind of track record, I think I’m doing pretty damn good.

Unpleasant 1

Okay. So this isn’t going to be very long and it might not stay on topic, but I have a lot on my mind right now.
And it might be long. I don’t know.

I just went through a friend’s pictures. Okay, well she’s not really a friend, but her sister and I used to be best friends. I don’t know what happened and I’m not allowed to know I guess. But we’re no longer friends. And it hurts. I promised myself that I wouldn’t dwell, but I can’t help it right now.
I could probably ask some mutual friends, but I don’t know if I should. I want so badly for things to be okay between us but I don’t know how to make it right. I sent her a message as I figured I would get hung up on if I called, asking what was wrong. I did say that if I did do something, I was sorry for whatever it was, as well as I asked if she would tell me. But I didn’t get a response. And it hurt like hell. Here I am, missing this person like crazy, she went into the navy and did her run. We were all proud of her and I still am.
Ugh. I don’t fear change. I embrace it. But this is too much. And now I’m whining. A while ago, I put on my facebook, RIP. And when I think about it, it’s easier thinking that she’s just died. Does that make me a bad person?
I’m thinking about deleting her sister from my friend’s list because of all the pictures they have on their. It’s become harder and harder for me.
I mean, I already deal with enough. Why should I lose a friend and not even be special enough to know why?
WHY?!
With the stress at home, my mental illness and my physical disability… I know I shouldn’t. But I shouldn’t have to deal with so much. I’m trying my hardest to lose the weight I need to and get into shape for Florida so I can get a life going for my husband and I.
I know it’s selfish, but I think I deserve friendship. I don’t like being left out, but I deal. But this. *sigh*
When I said in my previous blog that my hubby has a terminal illness, I wasn’t joking. I wasn’t exaggerating. He’s very sick. He has a disease that he inherited from his mom that will make him weaker and he won’t be able to have a job.
And I don’t mind that scenario. It just bothers me that there’s no cure. As well as right now, doctor’s can’t help because there’s no money. He’s been sick with severe Tonsillitis for months now, almost a year and still there’s no relief. He’s talked a few times about wondering if it’s worth it, and for a while I agreed with him. I know there are worse off people out there and it sounds terrible, but between him, a few friends I have, and that fact alone, keeps me going.
And I am being a sad sack right now. But I’m also being real. I’m dealing with so much that sometimes I wake up and wonder if it’s worth getting out of bed. I get hungry and I can’t eat. I feel tired but I can’t sleep. And until I can get some money flowing then there will be relief.
A wise person once said that money can’t buy happiness, and I call bullshit on that. Money does buy happiness. I’m happy when I have food, when I have medicine, and I can’t have those without money.
I will be happy when I am able to put money into a savings account and then know that if something happens, we have money to fall back on. I will be very happy when I go home and see my friends and my family, but I can’t have that until money is involved.
And I warned you, but I’ve ended up ranting.
So I guess I’ll just type what’s on my mind.
I am a happy person. But it only goes so far and it depends on what is being discussed. Food makes me happy and I’ve immersed myself in it. I’ve gotten cook books from the library and copied recipes onto my computer. We’re getting food stamps so we can afford to get some food, but not a lot. I get to figure out how to make 150 dollars stretch a full month for 5 people.  It’s hard. It is damn hard, but we’re doing it.
I get to go to bed every night with the only person who makes me feel good about myself, and even then I feel I don’t deserve him. I think, “What kind of person he must be to put up with me. Or well my other me.” They get in fights and it creates for tension. When I come around, it’s obviously a good thing, but I still feel bad for him. I can’t do as much for him as I would like because of my nerve damage. I end up feeling useless.

When we lived with a creepy old guy who used to be hubby’s friend, he would get mad at me for shit like this. He would lecture me and make me feel worse. He would get onto me and it wasn’t positive enforcement. It was things like, “Well it’s your fault that you’re letting this hold you back.” Last time I checked, the only thing I held back on was rigorous activity.
And then he would do shit like cry over the fact that there was nothing he could do. And I hate him. I’ve never hated a person more than I do him. I’ll end up getting bad points for it, but I wish he would die a very slow and painful death. He tricked me. He lied and he humiliated me.
But I’ve run out of things to talk about. I’m down, but I’ll put in Kinky Boots or something to cheer me up. It’s 6:46 in the morning right now. Hubby and I have decided to try sleeping from later morning to early-ish afternoon. He tosses and turns and I get woken up by the god forsaken construction 100 feet from our bedroom window.
I also promise, before I just leave that there won’t be many blogs like these. And if there are, I don’t expect pity or a lecture, or any kind of response. Hell I don’t care if this damn thing gets read or not.
Because at the end of everything that I write, whether it be on paper, or on the computer, it’s just me and my words.

A little bird gave me the suggestion for this next blog

Okay, so it wasn’t a little bird exactly, but there were Big Bird slippers involved.
I’m going to fill this space and your heads with my hubby. Firstly let me say that I am very protective of him and will get rowdy if the situation arises for him. I’m not usually the type to get in someone’s face… Well sort of, but anyway, I will defend him if I see or hear him getting shit for something that’s completely unfair. Or I’ll let the stupid college students at Smith’s or Wal-Mart at 1 in the morning know not to fuck with him. So no, I don’t fight his fights for him. He’s very capable of defending himself. I just get more enjoyment out of it.
Anyway, before I ramble. I’m not here to talk about my fights in life or anything like that. lol

Hubby darling. I love him so much!

Okay. No mushies here folks.

I never wanted the fairy tale romance, and the truth is, I don’t have one. I married my best friend. Okay, well technically I married my best friend’s older brother. I would write a story about it, but I wouldn’t know where to start so this is as good as it gets.

I was 13. I hadn’t had a crush before technically. Okay well that’s not true. There was a couple of boys and girls that I had crushes on, but this wasn’t a typical crush. I met Hubby at the mall. He had to take his sister and chaperone for some reason. It was me, her, him, and two other friends, I think. Yeah. And at first, second and third glance, I thought he was cute. But I also thought he was an asshole. Here’s this brooding bastard sucking the fun out of our mall venture. I left with two impressions. One, he had an obsession with ruining his sister’s fun, and two, I really hoped he wouldn’t be around if I decided to stay the night.
And then it happened. I did end up staying the night. And the first night I was over there, I was teased pretty bad by him and his dopey friend. (Now the fact that I was involved in an orgy with said friend, is not the point nor will it ever be. As well as that’s a blog for another time. 😉 ) Ahem.
So I got teased. And I didn’t really think anything of it. He had a girlfriend and I wasn’t interested in dating. As well as let me say that due to circumstances, I didn’t stay the night until after I had turned 14. She had stayed at my house a few times, but not the other way around. But then when I did stay the night, I loved it. I thought it was interesting that I felt so free there. And surprisingly as things would have it, Hubby and I started to get along. What sparked that was that we had a lot in common when it came to music and movies. (Isn’t that how it usually starts?)
So I spent a ton of time over at their house. I hated my living situation and found it refreshing to be there. And then Hubby and I started to spend some time together.
Now I’m not going to go into a ton of details, but I ended up going on vacation with them to Utah. And it was there during that trip that I realized I had a crush on him. And he started to lust after me. I was 16 and had just gotten my hips and ass. I will not forget that, because of being a slim, non-shapely thing and was happy… I forgot where I was going with that. Regardless, I started to turn heads, at least that’s what he tells me.
So after that trip, and he was single. I decided that I was on a mission. And I was too. Now let me say that I had to wait. I had to wait the long and painful process of three girlfriends and two years time. I was patient, what can I say?
But let me inform you before you all think I was this obsessive stalker, sniffing his boxers or some such nonsense that I wasn’t THAT obsessed.
But what I did do was write a letter. Oh yes. It was that kind of letter. I told him I liked him and I just wanted him to know that. …I don’t remember what else I wrote exactly, but I remember the date. Lord help me, I remember that fucking date. March 15, 2005.
LOL
Ha!
Anyway. He’s laughing at me as I type this. He says, I’m cute. ..Bastard. Ahem.

So yeah. I wrote that letter. And then I didn’t hear anything. For like three days. Of course I was nervous! And then his sister called me. And then he took the phone from her and talked to me. Talk about awkward. But it was all gravy and I waited about a week, then called and asked him out on a date. My mother wanted to hurt me very badly for that one, because being old fashioned, “That’s not the way things are done. You should have let him make the first move.”
I was told to make the first move. And really at the time, I didn’t think about it. So think about it now. First move. Not, “Hey you called me and asked me out, so that’s a first move”! No. Didn’t happen. Oh, we went out. It was awkard, but fun. Yeah, that’s a good way to word it.
We went and saw XXX 2: State of the Union. Shitty movie really. Good convo though? I dunno. I did have fun, but I didn’t know what to think. We went to the movie and then to his friend’s house. Then we sat and I think we just talked. Well him and his friends talked. I didn’t know what to do. But still, it was fun. Ha. He says I sat and looked pretty. lol
Well that’s true enough I guess.
Hmm.
So yeah. We went on that one date and then nothing. I wasn’t scared or anything. I just didn’t know what he wanted. Looking back at it, I feel like a twat. We were so sprung for eachother, it wasn’t funny. I’m not exagerating when I say you could have cut the sexual tension with a dildo. LOL
…Err something.
But nothing happened. And when I talked to his sister about it, don’t ask, she said that he told her that he wasn’t looking for a girlfriend. He wanted more of a fuck buddy. Oh. Well then. And I could have acted on it. I could have been just what he wanted. But I didn’t. And he didn’t. He was and is still too much of a good guy. He didn’t want me to get hurt. Oh I wouldn’t have gotten hurt. I would have gotten exactly what I wanted. But he didn’t know that and I hadn’t a clue how to tell him. It’s not like I was shy, I just literally didn’t know how to tell him.
And so I dated. And he got… well he got laid a couple times I think.
And then one night I get into my friend’s truck and his sister, who was dating said friend, turns to me and says, “Hubby’s interested if you still are.”
“Holy fuck. Really?”
*Grin* “Yeah. Wanna call him and tell him?”
“No! You do it.”
…Judge me if you want, but I get all giddy and can’t speak well when he’s around sometimes. I get all giggly and blush. A LOT still. It’s annoying as hell!
So she called and the ball started rolling. Sort of. We went out again, with his sister with us, which wasn’t a bad thing. I like to think it was helpful to me. Kind of a buffer because if I didn’t know what to say, she could keep me talking. So yeah. We did that and then went out on another date with her… that sounds wrong. She was there. lol
I don’t remember all the details at this point because there was a lot going on, but we had started cuddling on the couch when I stayed the night and then from cuddling came heavy make-out sessions and naughty hand games, etc. Twas fun. 😀
It was that night that I found out how magical his fingers were. And then I moved in.
Uhh.. *thinks* …It smells like cat food. In the room, not him or the time then.
Anyway.
So I moved in and went from sleeping in his sister’s bed to his. No we didn’t fuck that first night. I was surprised I was brave enough to be up there with him. (He had a loft at this point.) Lots of making out happened though. And cuddling too, til we fell asleep. Then I woke up with his boner poking me in the back. I didn’t mind though. I lay there and grinned like a fool.
Then there was Easter morning. April… something or other… Easter in 2006. Look it up. It happened. And it was spectacular. Toe curling and not at all the horrors I was warned of for my first time. He just knew. Not about the first time thing. He already knew about that. But he just knew. He knew what I wanted when I wanted it and how to give it to me. And still does. I have my sex god.
But here’s a bit of mush. Love. Good ole fashioned love. It’s really sweet, but before we said the L word to each other, he said it in his sleep after we technically made love for the first time. Then I knew I was stuck. You don’t say things like that in your sleep if you don’t mean it. …Usually. But the only thing I could think was, “Oh no. Love wasn’t supposed to be a part of this equation.” And I was slightly afraid, but really excited.
Details aren’t too important, but I got him a card and we took the plunge. The L word was uttered, well not uttered, but I’m being eloquent here. We actually stood in front of the kitchen sink and hugged for ten minutes, both of us blushing. But it was the nicest thing. He had always given good hugs, part of why I liked him.
Oh bugger. I suppose you want to know why I liked him. Okay, recap. He was cute, funny, smart, uhhh, we got along and I just felt this connection. I mean, I lusted after him big time, but I just felt something. I knew I had to have him some way. And that’s all I can say about that. It’s pretty cliche with what I liked about him, but it’s true. And let me say that it turns out he wasn’t an asshole to his sister. She’s just a twat.
Anyway. I got to know him and see the real him underneath all his layers. I used to say he was like my own little onion. Okay, it sounds lame, but if you’ve seen Shrek then you know what I’m talking about. And yes, when he gets grouchy, he’s my ogre. lol
And then we got married. April 1, 2009 is our legitimate anniversary. (We got together on April 1st in 2006, officially.) We didn’t have a ceremony or a honey moon (yet) but we were both so happy. Although it doesn’t feel like I’m married, and not in the bad way. People have asked me how married life is and I tell them it’s about the same as when we were just living together. Only now there’s paperwork and my last name got changed. But I like my new name better. lol
I love him. He’s stuck with me when most guys would have packed up long time ago. It sounds wrong to put it this way, but we put up with each other. We both have quirks that some would find intolerable. Strong word, but it’s true. He has a few things wrong with him medically that will affect how we live later on. I’m talking about a terminal illness that won’t kill him, but there’s no cure and it’ll just sap his strength as he lives on and gets older. Then there’s me. I have another person living in my head and they don’t always get along. I have nerve damage that could potentially make me lose the usage of my right arm if I can’t get it fixed. But we’re strong. I never get sick of him. He really is my best friend. We spend a ton of time together and most of the time it’s not doing anything really. We just truly enjoy each other. He’s my soul mate and I’m his. And I feel confident enough saying that.
Now I’m not a dreamer. I’m very much a realist when it comes to our relationship. My head is in the clouds, but my feet are firmly on the ground.
But let me say that we’re strong. We will fight whatever we have to and as long as we never stop trying, not like we really have to, then it’ll be just fine. We’ve already lasted through a ton of shit. Moving because of bullshit reasons, losing jobs, money, and just generally being the bane of others’ existence. We’ve stuck with each other. And we’re gonna keep on truckin’ no matter what happens.
On a lighter note. We still have incredible sex and tickle fights galore. He’s my sous chef and I never have to ask twice for help. He’s my nerd as I’m his and we can obsess about Star Wars together or quote Family Guy at all hours. He’s my editor and is really great to bounce ideas off of. He has been extremely helpful with Janice. …Though the lack of stories, doesn’t prove much. lol
And he could be a writer if he could figure out how to care about actual writing. Like getting into it. Just doing it. Something.
But we’ll see what the future holds. Together. …gag. lol

Ah. He’s my crazy fucker.

We fit so well. 🙂

Cuddles. I love them.

He’s always got my back.

Him and I lookin’ pretty.

He’s crazy. lol