An ode to small appliances.

I don’t like cooking. 

I like eating (rather pedestrian food), and I like the fact that Eva doesn’t starve. But I really don’t like the work and I don’t like cooking and I don’t like getting excited about food and seriously, it’s so. much. work. Ugh.

I just got married and became a stay-at-home mom in a rather alarmingly short period of time. Which somehow entitled me to become a real live adult who takes her toddler to classes and the library and gets Pottery Barn catalogs for no reason and needs to provide dinner despite one’s husband’s protestations that no! I’ll totally help!*

And so I came up with like three recipes that I didn’t hate making and rotated them through with tacos and take out and bumming meals off of the grandparents. But I finally got tired of the recipes and the WORK UGH SO MUCH WORK. 

So I decided to attempt a crock pot recipe. (Whee wedding!) 

And you guys. It’s AMAZING. 

SERIOUSLY. THERE’S NO WORK. I mean, yeah, I guess there are some recipes where you make all the food separately and then move the almost fully cooked product into the crock pot to warm it up but seriously, that’s stupid. I’m all about the dump-a-bunch-of-crap-into-the-pot-and-turn-it-on recipes.

And it smells good! Which is good! Except it makes you hungry! Like really hungry! So you drink coffee instead! Which is why all the exclamation points! 

(Also, the pinning. Dude. I pinned ALL the things. If it said “crock” or “pot” or “fall”** I pinned it.)

Okay. I’ll be honest. I might taste like crap. But I really don’t care. Because it’s AWESOME.

Buzz used to be fond of saying “You’ll end up liking cooking. They all do,” until I started throwing things at his head and screaming that maybe he should have married someone nice again. (Because we’re open like that.)

But he may be right. Dammit. 

*Yes, and we’ll eat around eight when you get home. The two-year-old will LOVE that. 

**My other alarmingly domestic infatuation. My decorations. Let me show you. 

9/11

I’m a Republican.

I disagree with Joe Biden on most things, and find many of his positions to be downright offensive and immoral.

As a Catholic, I have serious issues with his position within the current administration and professed belief. (Something with which I am not going to concern myself with until it starts infringing on my religious freedom, as I am not God.)

But when I heard his speech yesterday in Pennsylvania, I was impressed. Not with anything political about it, but how personal it was. It wasn’t angry. It wasn’t aggressive. It was just a memorial.

This morning I found an editorial that expanded a little bit…information I knew, obviously. And being rather intimately involved in a similar situation, it’s interesting to think about the implications.

But more than that, I think that it’s important in politics, in life, really, to remember the humanity of other people- even if we disagree with them- and the love of family that (in general at least) binds us together. Because that’s what we’re remembering on September 11th. Not the act of terror, or the subsequent wars. But the loss of thousands of husbands and wives and parents and children and siblings that tore a hole through the country that all of us, even those not directly affected, could and still do feel, even eleven years later.