The title of this blog is dedicated to Brett Perrotta, friend, fellow travel blogger and appreciator of raunchy puns extraordinaire.
So here I am in Queensland, enjoying a work-free, obligation-free six weeks that are passing much too quickly. At times, I feel like a lazy sack of shit as I watch Jamie go to work at 5:30 am every morning, but then I reminded myself that there are few opportunities to simply do nothing in life, and they become few and far between as time goes on (disclaimer: yes, I know I used exactly the same argument to justify my laziness in January before I left for Australia, but lay off), and I should just take advantage of it. Also, no one wanted to hire a skill-less American for six weeks. Life goes on.
So here I sit, blissfully in my pj's at ten am, tapping away at the computer with a half-eaten bowl of cereal beside me and the whole day stretching out before me, blissfully empty. This is not to say that I am bored. I read, I go for walks, I play guitar, I keep Jamie updated via text message on Paul the Psychic Octopus, I'm a busy girl! But the best thing about this time to myself while Jamie is off bringing home the proverbial bacon, is that I BAKE.
Allow me to preface by saying that prior to my current housewifery, "domestic" was not a word that easily described me. When I would tell people that I was coming to stay with Jamie for six weeks, during which I would be essentially a housewife, I was met often with incredulity and more than once with "I canNOT see you as a housewife." Though I probably would have been mildly offended if anyone had suggested that housewifery was EXACTLY what they saw in my future, I couldn't help but feel slightly hurt. True, I was not a good cook. True, most evenings, left to my own devices I would make myself such hastily thrown together "meals" as a mustard sandwich, or cheese. "Baking" didn't even exist. So I vowed to myself that my time in Queensland would turn me into a domestic diva.
I baked several batches of chocolate chip cookies, ranging in their palatableness, and one DISASTROUS batch of sugar cookies, whilst in Melbourne, but leaving no indications that I shows any sort of aptitude for baking and/or cooking. I resolved to change this when I arrived in Queensland, and thus far I have baked chocolate chip cookies, oatmeal white chocolate cookies, snickerdoodles, pumpkin muffins, pumpkin-chocolate brownies, and, most recently, boysenberry shortcake. Suck it, Martha Stewart. I list all of these culinary achievements not to brag (ok, yes to brag) and also to prove that one does not need to have any initial signs of ability in order to have a successful career as an amateur (or in my case, master) baker. It gives me a ridiculously pathetic sense of accomplishment to take my latest creation out of the oven and gleefully feed it to anyone who will let me. Frequent victims are Jamie's parents, to whom I apologize in advance for any obesity, high blood pressure, or diabetes that may result from having these buttery, sugary creations crammed down their throats a few times a week.
Baking and cooking are probably two of the first things to hit the chopping block with a busy life, and I find that lamentable. There is a quiet peacefullness, or in my case, its equivalent (frantic neurosis) to be found in dutifully or not so dutifully following a recipe and reaping the delicious rewards for yourself and loved ones. I have been frequently guilty of pleading lack of time and just throwing a pot of pasta on the stove for the umpteenth time, but I hope that that will change when I return to DC. It is cliche, but food feeds not just your body but your soul, and especially with my penchant for buttery delights, I fear I am forgoing the physical for the spiritual benefits.
And finally, because he always complains that he is only a secondary character in my blogs and never a main player, here's a little shoutout to Jamie. All the joy I have found in baking and cooking would be inconsequential without my dutiful guinea pig to try out new recipes on. Though I worry slightly about his impartiality, hearing him grunt "Mm 'sgood babe" around a mouthful of whatever I have placed before him is immensely gratifying. And, lest we forget, I wouldn't even have this opportunity to lead this life of luxury and idleness if it weren't for Jamie's generous offer to share his home and his life for these six weeks. Never underestimate the quiet contentment that is to be found in falling asleep and waking up next to someone you love and who returns that love to you, plus interest.
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