To Eat? Perchance to Cook, ay, There’s the Rub.
Let me start by saying I love food. And by that I mean, I love to eat.
So… it would be – if nothing else – practical, not to mention, a useful way to support my eating habit, if I also loved to cook. Not to mention feed any one or – hey, how about all! – of my three constantly-in-need-of-eating children and – hey, while we are at it, also my cute husband who, like me, likes to eat.
I wouldn’t use the word hate when it comes to cooking. I mean, I basically only hate things like having a bad flu, or having $70,000 stolen from me and all my jewelry too. And Hitler.
But cooking (when it’s me doing it, that is) isn’t too far behind those items either. In hate-itude.
Of course I LOVE cooking when it’s being done by my amazing cook of a husband. Don’t love doing dishes… but Jesus, who am I to complain, my husband just cooked me an amazing meal??!!
I love cooking when it’s being done by a restaurant. I love cooking when it’s being done by my next door may-as-well-be-a-chef neighbor, or my best friend Betsy (who actually is a chef), or my mother, or father, or basically ANYONE who is willing to put the time and effort into making me a meal. God bless you all.
When I told my girlfriend & mom of 2 little ones that my husband was out of town for two weeks and I took that opportunity to have a ME-cation, she really didn’t get it until she asked me if the nanny cooked for the kids, and I answered, “well, duh! What, was I going to cook for them while he’s out of town?” (“He” meaning my husband, who puts a lot of husbandly pressure on me to cook at regular intervals for the family so our kids will eat something other than fish sticks, chicken nuggets, scrambled eggs and cold cereal for dinner. Hard to fault him for that…)
Anyway, when I said that, a lightbulb went off in my friend’s head (whose husband has MUCH higher standards than any of my kids or husband and she actually meets those culinary standards 6 days a week). “Oh!” she cried, everything clicking into place. “You didn’t cook for two weeks! WOW!”
I could already hear the wheels turning in her head, plotting out her very own ME-cation for the upcoming weeks when her husband will be leaving town.
You go, girl! Now, excuse me while I go defrost some chicken.
Hahahahaha!!! Just kidding. String cheese time. Delish.
Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)