Recently, most likely as a stalling tactic to prevent me from doing work on the dissertation and avoidance of the hideousness of network television, I have started reading cooking blogs.
I visit one blog, written by a young woman who is apparently a lovely person who adores cooking--the blog intro has heart shaped cookies with the name of the blog emblazoned on them in decorator's frosting. The effect is quite charming, and I am impressed that anyone would, first, have the inclination to do such a thing and, second, be willing to spend the time. I guess that I am the type of person who gets in bed every night and grimly thinks, "Okay, one more day closer to death: exactly what did I accomplish today that was worthwhile?" Not to be cranky, but putting "Menopausal Mom" in icing on cookies would not make the top ten, not to mention the top 100 million, things I would want to have accomplished that day. Decorator icing is just that--something which is of little substance and is not intended to last.
Not that I mean to criticize. Nope, I won't go there. I do, after all, read the blog. And much like someone once said, I read the recipes and think, "Well, that's not going to happen." I do like to cook, but I don't see spending an inordinate amount of time on a meal which will be inhaled in ten minutes and will be referred to generically as "chicken" by Nita. I mean, when I'm gone, is anyone going to say, "Wow, could she bake." Or, worse, "What a great little housekeeper." Pardon me, but what a way to be remembered. I would rather have someone say something like, "Wow, was she fun." Especially if the someone was a twenty-something male, but I again digress. Where was I? Oh, yes. . . Anyway, I figure the house will be here long after I'm gone, so let someone else clean it then. I, on the other hand, would prefer to be someone who made a difference on the world, someone who brought about change, who showed kindness, who helped others, and who raised children who would carry on the tradition.