On becoming domesticated...

Now that I’m a wife, I suppose I should start making more of a concerted effort to tackle the one part of domesticity that scares the crap out of me. Cooking. Ugh! I’m not a fan of cooking for a few reasons. First off, the rate of failure is much too high for my liking. I mean, really!! How many times have you heard of dishes going awry versus ones that are fabulous?? Yeah, that’s what I thought. :) Also, it takes sooo long to cook anything worthwhile. Once you add up the time it takes to come up with the idea of what to make, spend a million years at the grocery store tracking down the items since most good recipes call for like 20 different ingredients, do the prep work, AND all the cooking, you’re really looking at a significant time commitment!! Yowza. :) Where’s a personal chef when you need one?!?!

With that said, I’m up for the challenge and was put to my first test. My Dad’s birthday was this past weekend and what initially was going to be a quiet breakfast with Eric, my Dad, and I turned into a larger event that included Eric’s family and another friend. And now the menu was moved to brunch. I love having people over and entertaining, but when it comes to cooking for anyone other than my Dad or Eric, I get nervous. Both of those guys have to say they like it and will pretty much eat just about anything put in front of them. Other people tend to have a more discerning palette which worries me. Ha! Luckily, I scoured the internet top to bottom and found a few recipes that I felt would be good selections. Result = SUCCESS! The brunch for eight turned out great and with no leftovers lurking, I’m pretty confident that everyone genuinely liked the meal. Oh, and no one got sick (...that I know of, so also a success!). Phew.

Next item to tackle on my road to domesticity…NOT locking my husband out of the house while he’s out for a run and I leave for work! WHOOPS!!! My bad. Haha! And what makes this even worse is that this has happened three times now. :) I blame it on the fact that I’m on autopilot when I leave the house. Grab my purse…check, grab my keys….check, lock the door…check, get in my car and leave…check. It’s not my fault!! Okay, technically it is, but maybe he should consider his role in all of this. He’s leaving his new bride unprotected in a house where I could potentially get kidnapped, raped, murdered AND killed. Now who’s the bad guy. And that ladies, is how you turn it around back on them. Haha! Score 1 for Anne. 0 for Eric. :) And yes - I know murdered and killed are more or less the same…inside joke…

~as