I hate cooking. Really. The thought of making a meal makes me lose my appetite. Bear does most of the cooking around here (which makes me feel guilty because I'm the one with the most free time). I try to find the easiest recipes I can find. I try to find quick meals I can just throw together. But still...being in the kitchen makes me feel like...[insert word that rhymes with "kitchen"].

But I've been wondering...am I going about this all wrong?

What if, instead of looking for the easy way out, I took a different approach? See, here's the thing...there are people who like to cook. Weird, I know. But they're out there. And it seems to me that they like to cook fancy-pants meals. Cooking isn't a chore. Cooking isn't just a means to an end (that end being a full stomach). Cooking is a hobby, an art even. And, as I pointed out, I do have quite a bit of expendable time on my hands maybe I should be looking for exciting, gourmet recipes.

Here's my theory. If I have a recipe that will result in something really tasty, something I can be proud of, something my family will drool over, something that will make leftovers for Bear's lunch that'll make his peers jealous then maybe, maybe it will make cooking fun. Maybe I hate cooking because I feel like I'm not getting much out of it. Oh, woo-hoo...decent meal, full belly. Is that really worth the time and effort? Even "easy" recipes require work. But for a marginally larger amount of effort I could be having meals like mushroom and goat cheese lasagna, or almond nut loaf, or even Jared-style pizza.

Then again, I could just throw that freezer pizza in the oven.

1. Give me liberty and I'll still have to take death someday.

2. Whenever there's a light spot or reflection on the wall Girla (the fat cat) goes absolutely beserk.

3. I wish Lucy would stop growing so quickly (she's nearly 10 & 1/2 pounds now)!

4. Jared's pizza was the last thing I ate that was utterly delicious.

5. To live in this world is a gift I intend to enjoy.

6. Other than this one, It's The Thought That Counts is the last blog I commented on.

7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to doing nothing inparticular, tomorrow my plans include a free workout at Curves and Sunday, I want to get some reading done!

I know I have a cute baby. As her mother I'm well aware of this. I mean, I sometimes just sit and stare at her because she's so gosh darned beautiful. So when people want to take a peek at her in public I understand.

But stop. touching. my. baby!

When Jared took us out to eat there were (I kid you not) three separate members of the restaurant staff and one customer who came and bothered us. And when I say bother I don't mean the usual, "Oh she's so cute! How old is she?" kind of bothering. I mean the kind of bothering that inspires an inner dialogue not unlike the following:

"Um...could you not touch my baby? I don't know you and you did not ask if I'm OK with it. And, excuse me but I don't get out of the house enough as it is and when I do get out with my husband and brother in law I don't want to spend that time listening to you talk baby talk to my baby I want to spend that time WITH MY FAMILY. And, gah! Why are you still touching my baby! Um...no strange lady I've never, ever met you may NOT hold my baby while I pick out my food. Geez! Why are you touching my baby! You do realize I had personal space and while you're violating my baby's personal space you're also violating mine? Um, wow...thanks waitress. I really wanted to know all about how your daughter sasses your ex husband and how gleeful that makes you. STOP. TOUCHING. MY. BABY!!!"

Or, you know...something like that.

Next time this happens I'm gonna have to not be such a wuss and actually tell people (as politely as possible) what I'm really thinking because the idea of spending another meal feeling harassed and uncomfortable when I should be laughing and enjoying time with my loved ones makes me want to not get out of the house after all.

But the food was good!

I kind of idolized my uncle when I was a kid (the man built a sort of go-cart out of lawn mower parts...what kind of kid wouldn't idolize him?). I think, generally, that kids like their uncles (they're just so much cooler than mom and dad or something like that). Well, Lucy isn't quite old enough to appreciate her Uncle Jared (though she eventually started making eye contact with him) but we sure appreciate him!

He got in to Medicine Hat Sunday afternoon and left this morning. Frankly, the visit was too short for our taste. It was fun talking, going for a walk in the coulee, watching Firefly, listening to him jam on his unbelievably gorgeous guitar (the one he made) and just hanging out with him.

Sunday night he took us to the local Mongolian grill. So yummy!

Yesterday he made pizza.

Now, let me explain something. Jared cooks. Jared cooks very, very well. When we were in Kingston for Christmas/our wedding and he was there he made this unbelievable seafood curry (with lobster)! Ever since then I've been looking forward to an opportunity to have him cook something for us again. So you should understand that this was no ordinary pizza.

When we make pizza we use canned spaghetti sauce.

When Jared makes pizza he makes a sauce himself with white wine, diced tomatoes, fresh garlic, and, I'm pretty sure, magical fairy dust because it smells and tastes so good there's no way a mere mortal makes it without some sort of supernatural assistance.

When we make pizza we use mozzarella.

When Jared makes a pizza he uses mozzarella...and goat cheese! And can I just say that I now LOVE goat cheese?

When we make a pizza it turns out OK.

When Jared makes a pizza it turns out like something you'd get in a snooty restaurant staffed by supernal chefs who spent 7 years developing the perfect pizza pie.

It was awesome.