Not so barefoot

Tonight, while I stood in someone else's kitchen, negotiating with someone else's stove, doing the complicated ballet of "where can I put this?" - some things dawned on me.

I think understand why my Mom likes the kitchen (maybe?). There is a sense of control and confidence not found in other parts of the party. I may not know how to talk or listen to you- but I know how to be successful at this - at cooking for you and making you appreciate my company through a different kind of dialogue.

I understand why you cook - because it helps you not eat. Had I not been manning pizza making central - I would have been eating. I cooked five pizzas and ate 2.5 slices (way below my normal average). Cooking keeps my hands busy so I am not stuffing food in my mouth.

The sense of accomplishment from cooking for friends is one that, probably for the rest of my life - I will cherish above all others. There is something about feeding the ones you love- its inexplicable and wonderful. I so rarely feel proud of myself - that even when it is something silly (like putting toppings on crust & putting it in the oven) I relish in completely.

I should have learned sooner, picked up quicker, listened better when the secrets were emparted to me but alas, such is youth.

Also? I shouldn't wait to write blogs until my phone is almost dead- as it means I have to finish them the next morning...