I love to cook. I mean... I LOVE to cook. Which is problematic at times, because I also LOVE TO EAT and really dislike my Nazi trainer and going to the gym. With three kids, countless appointments for this and that, the photography, etc, its really only on the weekends that I get to take the time I want, perched in front of that stove and de-stress. And that it is for me - a total RELEASE. My husband was reminding me that it made me happy to hang out in the kitchen and create meals, and I should rediscover my passion for it. It
is relaxing. One rule we have in this house is we ALWAYS sit down to a big Sunday dinner. I didnt have that as a child, and I want my children to expect to have their asses planted firmly in my chairs at my dining room table, well into their older years, EVERY Sunday - Soprano style. My boys have such a love for cooking with mom and dad as well. I love it. It also could be that I am training them to make good food so that I wont have to eat their wives shit and smile while I choke back some undercooked chicken or burned meatloaf - all while wishing myself instant death with a big friendly smile plastered on my face.
Moving along...
I was never good at throwing things out. I have boxes filled with crap from years and years ago, greeting cards signed by people I've long forgotten, and photos - oh, the photos. It's as if throwing one out is somehow throwing out the person. And so I err on the side of caution and save them all. I probably take more pictures than anyone down the line will ever be able to distribute or remember who the hell the person is in the photo. I save memories too. I hoard them like treasures. But I rely on my mind more than I should to preserve them. My mental snapshots need safer keeping than my brain will allow. Particularly the newborn memories, with their value in inverse proportion to the functionality of our gray matter during those first few insane weeks. I do not have many baby pictures and perhaps that is why I feel the need to capture every moment of my boys lives and preserve them. It is a sickness. No it isnt. I just adore them and want them to have many happy memories.
Isnt that what its all about anyhow?
