Reflections

I

Reflecting on decisions I have made through life, it feels as if I have always made the wrong decision, and it’s a snowball thought process working back as far as I can remember. My life priorities have rarely aligned with what I truly want out of life, ensuring I don’t actually get what I want or focus on what I’m currently working on. I seem to have chosen the wrong girl to date more times than I care to admit. Maybe if I had chosen the “other” girl, life would’ve turned out differently. Even before the relationship nightmares, I caved to societal pressures and chose a field of study that I wasn’t passionate in, but was a safer choice. Maybe if I hadn’t gotten my scholarship, I wouldn’t have chosen college at all, instead signing the paperwork the military recruiter placed in front of me my Junior year of high school. How different my life would have been had any of these decisions gone a different way. I try not to play the woulda coulda game, but sometimes, I do wonder when I will start making good decisions that lead my towards the life I always thought I would live.

II

When I tell people I bought a house, inevitably, they all say how proud of me they are. But why? Why does buying a house make you proud of me, when so many other things didn’t? So you’re proud of me for going into massive debt? For locking myself to a certain geographical location for the foreseeable future? Be proud of me when I pay the house off, but not for actually buying one. The banks will give any schmuck a loan. And why is buying a house one of those life checklist items, as if your entire life is as simple as following a list of items like a recipe. Getting married (check, then uncheck), having a baby (blank stare), buying a house (check, again), retiring (roll eyes)… I don’t want to live my life based on a cookbook method, step by step list laid out for me by society, the government, or anyone’s expectations of what will make MY life happy and fulfilled. Here’s a little secret - I bought my house to escape the memories of my previous situation and to hide away from the world in my own comfortable isolation. And I love it. I’m close to civilization, but am essentially in the middle of nowhere. Dark skies full of stars at night. Wildlife and birds everywhere. A few neighbors who keep to themselves. And glorious space and freedom to do what I want, when I want, without fear of waking up the kids downstairs. No checklist needed, thank you very much. (Looking back I realize I spouted this same topic in March… but apparently, it still bothers me…)

III

Little known fact about me - I read a lot of trashy romances. Not because I particularly enjoy them, but because they are usually FREE, and they offer a mindless distraction and escape that doesn’t require paying attention and is forgiving of being interrupted over and over, such as when I am working at the shop. However, I do find it interesting to track some of the themes that present themselves. For starters, it is perfectly acceptable for the heroine to be “short, curvy, and otherwise unremarkable”, but the hero must always be tall, chiseled, brooding and extremely masculine, never shedding a tear. I have yet to read ONE book where the roles were reversed, with a bombshell heroine and a slightly dorky, pudgy, going-grey hero. And people wonder why masculine toxicity is rampant? Gee, start with your trash books.

Another disturbing theme I have noticed - everyone is supposed to have that life-long best friend, or the kid they were pals with who grew into a mature picture-perfect specimen of the opposite sex, whom you naturally fall into love with. Why disturbing? For starters, my longest lasting TRUE friendship, as of this moment, is about thirteen months. Sure, I’ve got lots of acquaintances and the bike club that go back farther than that, but have any of them called me up to check on me? Only one, and it was a blanket phone call, where he was going down the list of names one by one… not the same thing. All of the people in my life are either there to use me, or out of convenience. When we’re at the same event, we get along fine, but the second we part ways, it’s like I don’t exist. Out of sight, out of mind. As I said, I have one exception - and I treasure our nearly-daily conversations, even if it is slightly one-sided in its purpose.

I think I have adapted, as I have aged, to everyone abandoning me. It started at a young age - I remember my first real same-aged “best friend” having to move away due to his father’s job transferring him. I was devastated. Shortly after, my grandfather, whom I was especially close to, passed away. It wasn’t unexpected, but due to my age, I had been kept from seeing him for the period of time he was in the hospital. I never got to say goodbye. Those two events, so close together, totally clammed me up. Now, I just expect people to leave me. And the second I get the feeling like I am being pushed away, or that the period of my “usefulness” to them has passed, I sever ties quickly. It’s a defense mechanism, I know that, but it’s the only way I know to survive anymore. Because to date, not a single person has ever chosen to stay with me, to stand by my side whether in friendship or more, to work through whatever difficulty is presented. I am just not worth the extra effort, I suppose…

Wow, that got deep and dark quick. Sorry. Onward…

IV

I found myself with a weekend completely void of plans or chores, and decided to spend most of it cooking, trying new recipes with new means or methods. Not only was it a tasty weekend, I also found myself smiling, singing to music as I danced around the kitchen. During a moment of cookie dough induced sugar high, I contemplated doing a cookbook cook-through. I am nowhere near the first to make such a goal, and I don’t know that I have a desire to write about every single recipe or experience (sorry to those who hoped I would…) but I think picking one (or two?) cookbook and working through it would alleviate the decision process that often stumps me. It would force me to try new ingredients, learn new methods, and hone skills.

I am still flushing out the details of what this will look like for me, and maybe it will evolve as it goes along. I recently picked up a copy of Ree Drummond’s new cookbook entitled “The Pioneer Woman Cooks - Super Easy!” and flipping through it, there were a lot of recipes that sounded perfect for my busy lifestyle. About 120 recipes, scattered across the three main meals, snacks, apps, and desserts, which makes this book feel like a good starting point. Then I thought about my grill sitting on the deck, and thought maybe TWO books, this one and then another on grilling? Scanning my bookshelves - yes, plural - of cookbooks, my eyes landed on Bobby Flay’s “Boy Meets Grill”. Perfect! But is this too ambitious? Perhaps, but when has that ever stopped me? And maybe I try to do the two books over two years, not a single year. See, details can change on the fly! As I said, I am still working on the details of how this will work for me.