Jim enjoys it because he works in the hot sun 5-6 days a week and the last thing he wants to do is bake in it more.
I think it might have something to do with the noise also. Just a couple of weeks ago, I realized that I find myself vacuuming more than really needs cleaned or even drying my hair a little bit longer. And I'm pretty sure it has to do with the drowning out of the noise. I don't hear whining, bickering or even the blessed Elmo songs. Nobody has ever been seriously injured or started to bleed or even lost a limb while I've been in insanely-loud Mommy-land. So, I think I might be on to something.
Back to mowing: I prefer it over the other two loud hobbies of mine, because it is repetitive and no one can hang on my leg. I get lots of thinking time while mowing.
Today gave me the perfect opportunity to think about our trip to the grocery story this morning. Everybody who knows me well enough, knows that me and grocery stores are like hormones and husbands. We don't mix. Which further adds to my problems in the kitchen. Although, it's very possible a witch intern accidentally put a hit out on me with the cooking gods. Which would explain A LOT!
I digress. Usually, my lack of completing the task of grocery shopping completely and within a respectable amount of time is blamed on something else. The store was crowded. I forgot my sweater. The kids were acting up. She wouldn't quit asking a hundred questions. I couldn't concentrate. I felt rushed. My husband wouldn't quit calling. I ran into a friend. I was concentrating too much on coupon-ing. Blah, blah, blah. There's always an excuse for me, because I can't ever seem to get it right. And today was no exception, except that there was NO excuse for my absent-mindedness. None.
The kids were seated and well-behaved and I had only 15 easy items to find. My trip was spurred on by providing a meal to a new-baby momma and I had already discussed the menu with her. On this particular trip, one very important item was left sitting cold and pretty in the freezer aisle. Right next to the limas and black-eyed peas I did manage to pick up.
So why all the fuss? Isn't the baby momma understanding that I forgot to pick up the green beans? Of course she was and she just chalks it up to another Kelle-grocery-shopping experience. Which is what irks me!
Why? Why can't I get it? The second or third line of a mother's job description has something to do with providing food for her family, and I fail miserably at it ALL THE TIME! What's going on with my brain that seems to make it so hard to successfully buy items on a grocery list and prepare them at home? I have no idea.
Some ideas I tossed about over supper (to my smirking husband), were along the lines of: maybe it's too much to choose from in the grocery store, or even sensory overload. The distractions are half-way legitimate excuses but I mess something up when I'm just by myself also.
I admit, I'm envious of those able to perform the simple task of not stressing out over a trip to the grocery store and coming home to prepare a scrumptious meal.
Jim's take on it was this: my heart's not in it.
Doesn't he just make you want to puke sometimes, or even strangle him? He couldn't be more right, that's the problem. I could care less about grocery shopping or cooking. If it were up to me, we'd have those machines that prepare meals for you with the push of a button, like on the Jetsons. That's all I'm interested in. No automatic washer, no maid to clean up. Our costs would be wrapped up so much in that food thinga-ma-bobber that I'd gladly clean up.
This has been going on for a while though. In my teenage years, the first time I cooked spaghetti for my dad, I neglected to get the water boiling before adding the noodles. There was little-to-no stirring involved and the spaghetti blob had to be cut like pie slices. He politely declined the noodle-slice smothered in Ragu poured straight from the jar.
My next cooking disaster happened about the same age and I ended up cooking and eating not-thoroughly-cooked chocolate grits. Long story.
I took the class Meat We Eat in college because it was supposed to be an easy 2-credit class. I think I managed to squeak out a D+.
God has to have a sense of humor for pairing me up with Jim because he is his mother's child and that man can cook along with everyone else in the family. This evening, he so graciously scraped the burnt lima beans out of the bottom of the pot I left sitting on the grill outside so it wouldn't stink up the house. Yep, we were supposed to have green beans also, then it turned to lima beans and finally we ate left-over broccoli in the fridge (that Jim had cooked).
So bare with me, if you've received a meal from me and it was horrible, just smile and thank me later on. If you were thinking about inviting me to a cooking expo, please invite someone else, I'll save you the time of asking and you'll enjoy it more. If you're looking for a good recipe from me for your fund-raising cookbook, I'll send you the ONE I use off of allrecipes.com. And last but not least, if you come to my house and eat a meal that is out of sight, Jim cooked it.
I leave you with an excerpt from a post I did back in June of last year: Enjoy!
"Whenever Jim and I are in the kitchen it's like this dueling dance of power. He's the cook and I'm just basically a hack that fakes her way through a meal. However, our approach to cooking sometimes reveals our approach to life and our levels of optimism about the world around us.
For example, he's a recipe skimmer, basically he actually comprehends the recipe the first time he reads it and his cooking-intuition is 99% right. I'm a recipe studier, analyzer, follower (to a fault) which has not worked in my favor.
His attention span is long when it comes to cooking. He's fast and adept and flings food around while he's stirring. I am slow and agonizing, taking twice as long to do everything, frequently do it the hard way and always keep everything inside the pan.
He does not wash as he goes. I take too long washing, inevitably messing up something that is cooking because I wasn't paying attention to the food.
I assume it's all going to work out fine, and it usually doesn't; he's certain it will and it does."
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