The first real snow. It doesn’t look like much, but I promise you there’s probably about an inch or so sitting there. The grass hasn’t been mowed since sometime in October. That rose bush needs trimmed bad. The garden needed tilled. But all of that is meaningless now. Winter is upon us, and I’ve once again proven that I can’t manage even the small tasks around here. What the hell am I going to do if I get the farm I so desperately want?!
Archives for January 2012
I’ve had this cookbook on the shelf for years. A gift from a former life. Every so often it hits me, when I remember where I got something, how different my life is today from those past years. The people I’m no longer around, the old thoughts and beliefs that came with being young and naive (or stupid)… sometimes I miss those days. Sometimes I wonder what life would be like if I had stuck with that path. If I had made different decisions. But then I remember the things that led to my life today, and realize that today I’m luckier and happier and more comfortable with myself because of where I’m at right now. And there’s no need to dwell on the past.
I’ve ridden myself of a lot of things over the years that came from my past. This cookbook, however, I kept. Mainly because I felt it was unique. It was different. Not your standard Betty Crocker cookbook. The recipes in here just felt… fancy. Not the homely comfort food I had grown up with of green bean casseroles, meat loaves, and chicken pot pies. I remember looking through the pages the first time and thinking that the recipes seemed really difficult and complicated. But then… I didn’t really know how to cook, either. (Still don’t, though I’m at least slowly trying to learn).
In all the years that I’ve held onto this book – through move after move – I’ve never once made anything out of it. Even with getting more cooking experience under my belt I still was intimidated by this book. Until today. January 1st. The perfect day to start off on a new attitude. The perfect day to leave old fears behind. The perfect day to break out of my comfort zone and try something new.
The house is quiet, as it usually is, save for the gunshots of my husband playing a Call of Duty game, the whirring of the machine turning and mixing and doing its magic, and the occasional shudder of the house against the cold, strong winds outside. It’s a cold, dreary day here, but I don’t mind. Ice cream, for me, is a year-round affair.