Here are a few truths about Dianna:
-she loves shoes (see this post)
-she loves purses (see this post)
-she doesn’t like to cook (see the post you’re currently reading)
-she enjoys taking care of people
The last two truths have been getting in the way of each other. As I get into older age (the big 30 is around the corner) I find myself wanting to cook as a means of taking care of the people in my life. But I don’t like to cook. It’s a long and sorted story as to why, but I would rather clean my house than cook. Clean toilets than cook. Hand wash dishes than cook. But something inside of me is saying, “Dianna, cook!” I hear it everyday now. Little voice go away. Please!
I always get the question, “How do you feed your son if you don’t cook?” And my answer always is, “I cook for him but not myself.” He’s 4 and really easy to cook for. Me on the other hand, I’m not so easy to cook for. I’m rather picky. I don’t really like chicken. I don’t like turkey (unless it’s smoked or ground). And I try to avoid gluten and dairy. It’s just easier to pick something up at Trader Joe’s.
But, over the past month I’ve had the desire to cook. I made a casserole out of left overs in the fridge. It was really good (and I’m not the only one who ate it!). I made the mac and cheese casserole tonight for our Thanksgiving dinner. And I’m making brownies (from scratch) and maybe fudge (for the first time) tomorrow. Maybe it’s the holidays or maybe it’s my desire to not starve that’s driving me to cook. I’m not sure. But if my friends keep letting me use them as guinea pigs, I’ll keep cooking.
Give me a year…
But my kitchen will NEVER look like that.