I Wasn't Meant to Cook

As I have made it perfectly clear several times, I don't like to cook!  As far as I'm concerned, it ranks right up there with getting a root canal or grocery shopping (but that's a whole other blog...grocery shopping, that is).  It's soooooo complicated and time consuming!!  First, you have to decide WHAT to cook.  That right there is enough to paralyze my brain. Ok, so we have chicken....then you have to figure out what to have WITH the chicken; do we have Rice-a-Roni or do we have potatoes and if potatoes, do we have mashed, baked or french fries?  And then we need a vegetable; do you know how many vegetables there are out there and then you have to decide to have frozen or canned.  I'm telling you....it's enough to make me want to avoid the kitchen all together and I haven't even gotten to digging through the cupboard for the pots and pans yet.  And THEN I have to deal with Grandpa.  He has this thing about timing everything.  You know, if the box or the package says 11 minutes...well, it cannot cook a minute less or a minute more.  I don't want to know what will happen if it does. That's all I hear..."Did you time it"?  They didn't have timers years ago....you guessed or estimated or just winged it. Gee, and people managed just fine, didn't they?  Not only does he have this thing about timing, he thinks you have to stand there and watch everything cook.  I take the "wandering" approach which makes him nuts.  If it's cooking, why do I have to stand there....I mean, I DO have that 11 minutes, don't I?  So, I figure why not use the time for something important like calling Shelly or Becky or go on the computer for a few minutes.  Ok, in Grandpa's defense, there were those few times when the spaghetti got a little overcooked and I turned the garlic into little crispy charcoal while I was "wandering" but that was not the "norm".  I usually am not gone THAT long.

I don't think I was meant to cook. I really do believe that for the safety of me, Grandpa and the two dogs, I should not be allowed to be near a stove, oven or grill. Yeah, I think I'll stick to that defense.

And you wonder how and what I cooked while the girls were growing up....it's called Spam!!