New Favorite Quote

I was reading a bit today and run across an article about cooking by Michael Ruhlman, who wrote my new favorite kitchen book, Ratio. His missive yesterday was a pretty good diatribe against our country's obsession with the fastest, easiest way to do things instead of focusing on eating good, real food. Then I came across this passage and decided Mike is my new favorite writer:

Quick, fast, and easy isn't the point. Good is the point. Makes you feel good is the point. I am not saying spend three hours making a chicken galantine. I am saying put a chicken the oven with some cut up potatoes for an hour. Yes, a whole hour! If you're inclined to enjoy some carnal exertions with your partner during that hour, that chicken will be all the more appreciated. But if there's laundry to be done, if there are kids who need help with their geometry, then do that.

"Carnal exertions." Awesome. Truly, truly awesome. I'm going to go buy a chicken now.

The Big Snip

Ah, the tale of my hair.

This might surprise some who know me, but I was born a blond. Towhead, actually, with wavy white hair typical of those sharing my Norwegian heritage. But as I grew up my Syrian and Cherokee roots took hold and my hair became darker and curlier every year. I still get natural blond highlights in the summer but my days of having golden hair are long gone.

When I was nine my mom cut my hair short. It was supposed to be all the same length but the back sprung up and created this cute 20's style bob. After that cut I decided I wanted long hair, and so since then I have never had it shorter than shoulder length. But this past week she was at it again, chopping off over a foot of hair that I had been faithfully growing out for years. And so for the first time in my adult life I have short hair.

My long curly hair has always been my signature look. People would comment on how beautiful it was, how long and curly, asking if it was natural and saying how much they wished for curly hair like mine. My mom used to spend hundreds of dollars a year on perms and styling to get an approximation of my spirals. For a girl with a weight problem and a host of self-esteem issues, having one thing I could hold on to as a positive about my looks was like a security blanket. Even when I felt ugly or unwanted, I could still hold on to my hair as something desirable about me.

My best friend, who never cut her hair while she was growing up, has donated her hair to Locks of Love a couple of times (boy did she get me good the first time, not telling me beforehand and causing me to practically fall over in shock when I saw her). Every time I thought to myself, oh, that is a good cause, but I would never do that. I couldn't have short hair. It's not me. I need my long hair. Even as I started to learn to love myself and my body, I still clung to my hair as my backup plan.

But it's amazing what marriage does. Or at least, marriage to a man who is constantly appreciating you and your body. If beauty is in the eye of the beholder, then Jer makes me the most gorgeous creature in the world every time his eyes smile at me. And he expresses it in so many ways-his words, his touch, his actions-so I've started to believe more and more that I am desirable. He loves my hair, but he was the one who gave me the freedom to cut it.

(Side note: apparently when Jer was growing up he had a little crush on Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio, best known for her turn as Maid Marian in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, where she rocked the big and curly hair to the extreme. Additionally, he liked the look of Andie MacDowell, who also rocks the curly locks. His mother has told me this, and how she was sure that he would end up with a girl who had long, curly hair like mine. I wonder if this is similar to my obsession in early life with guys who had names that started with J...)

Jer didn't suggest the donation, just a trim of a few inches so it would be lighter for summertime, but when I shared the Locks of Love idea he fully supported it. While he was shocked at the reality of how short it ended up being-no one really understands how curly hair springs up when you cut it, except for my mother-he has decided that he likes it and the short 'do is a fun change. So despite my lifetime of believing short hair would be a disaster for me, I find that I am still beautiful and loved, even with hair that doesn't make strangers ooh and ahh and follow me down the street. Who needs 'em-I've got my man.

Babies

My biological clock has been ticking since I was six.

Really, this isn't an exaggeration. Except for a brief stint in highschool when I wanted to be cool and not bothered by crying little baby brothers, I have always wanted kids. Lots of kids. Like, seven kids.

I've adjusted my goal down to the 3-5 children range, (which makes my husband breathe a little easier) and I've mostly given up on the names I had picked out in second grade, but I don't think I will ever stop wanting babies.

So many people I know are either pregnant or just had a child. In the past few days I have had the chance to hang out with a couple of friends who recently had little boys. And while I was certainly reminded of all the work that goes in to having an infant-the crying, the feeding, the changing, the seemingly impossible task of managing a tired child while attempting to conduct adult life-I was also reminded of the inimitable sweetness of a child asleep on your shoulder, a baby's smile, the feel of them in your arms.

This full picture of both the work and the blessing reaffirms my current desire to enjoy a couple years of DINK-dom before plunging headlong into the role of mommy. I want to be able to work and play with Jer, take fabulous trips together, and get as much sleep as we can in between crazy workweeks and busy social calendars. But in a couple years I will be approaching 30, and around about that time I think the alarm on my biological clock will finally go off.

The fact that I want lots of kids makes my mother and mother-in-law extremely happy. They are just dying for grandchildren, female grandchildren, to be precise. Neither Jer nor I have any female siblings, so both our mothers are anxious to have little girls to dress up and spoil. I want girls too, but honestly I feel like boys are easier. At least, I know how to handle them. Having grown up tending to four brothers and a host of male cousins makes the prospect of little men running around the house not so scary. Girls though. Girls are complicated. Even in adult life, I am way more comfortable at a nerdy boys' poker night than a baby shower.

Besides, Jer really wants his firstborn son.

In the end, it's not up to me, of course. I will take whomever the Lord blesses me with, and I am sure both grandmas will enjoy spoiling them rotten. But all this to say that while my heart yearns to hold my own sweet baby in my arms, for now, when people ask me when we are having kids, I will just smile and say 'someday'.

Watch This. Yes, All Of It

New favorite thing:





Seriously, watch the whole thing. And then go do what she says.

See you at the farmer's market!

Food Blogging

For those of you who enjoy my culinary adventures, I have been doing my food blogging over at Jerbecca. Most recently, I explain how Jer got me to eat an avocado. If you know me, you know this is quite a feat.

I'm hoping to get another recipe up today: Bean and Bacon Soup. Eat your heart out, Campbell's!