I’ve started reading cooking blogs and I’m kind of becoming obsessed about them. I even downloaded “Mastering the Art of French Cooking Volume I.” Granted, I just wanted to learn how to make an omelette, but still. I downloaded a Julia Child book. The horror of this cannot be overstated. Cooking for me is simply a way to get the fire department to our home. I once told my son he would know when the chicken was ready because the smoke detector would go off. And I was serious.
But I am thinking of cooking.
It’s not my fault. Everything on a cooking blog looks yummy. I love reading about cakes and cookies and what everyone ate for dinner last night (conversely, I hate Twitter because I feel like all I read is what everyone ate for dinner last night, so go figure). Anyway, the pictures are wonderful. And all the care that goes into those dinners. I mean, it’s not like picking up Taco Bell takes a lot of thought. Or good china for that matter. Or even utensils at all, now that I think about it – and when I say utensils, I’m not talking about a spork.
But after reading a cooking blog I get that urge to light up the stove and boil the hell out of something. But then I remember that while many people have pictures of super yummy dinners on their blog, I have this picture on my blog:
And this one:
Yeah, probably I should stop reading and start doing something I’m really good at…like watching Real Housewives reruns.Add me to your rss reader | Become a Fan on Facebook!