domesticated

If you know me at all, you know a few things about me.  I'm terrified of flying, I have a minor shopping problem, I always eat the red chewable vitamins first,  bad reality tv is my post-work weakness, and I am basically allergic to cooking/cleaning (much like I am to networking).  

 

I am fairly vocal about said personality traits, as the boys in the office across from me are quickly learning.  (Side note for clarification: at my new job, we have people sitting 3 to an office in some cases, and the office directly across from my otherwise isolated cube is occupied by a hilariously opposite duo of guys in their mid 30s; given our proximity, we talk often).    

So over the course of my first 2 1/2 weeks on the job, the boys and I have gotten into conversations that have revealed my aversion to cleaning, cooking, and the like.  This led one of them to declare (with more than a tinge of incredulousness) I've met women who don't want kids, but I've never met someone so resistant to being domesticated before. 

Unfortunate association with feral animals aside, he has a point.  After all, this was my dinner (on top of a cheese stick and some carrots with hummus):  

but isn't this the cutest bowl ever? need a closer look, well you're in luck...

(the latest edition to my new collection of little bowls, courtesy of World Market)

Ok, so, when I started the Lent adventure (and this blog), I had hoped dinners like this would become a thing of the past (except for the cute bowl thing--that isn't going anywhere).  To be fair, I am eating out way, way less.  I'd show you my credit card bill, but I don't want you stealing what little money I have left.  But in general, I'm succumbing to the anti-domestication tendencies.  I'm planning fewer meals, making more sporadic and unsuccessful grocery trips, and deferring to my pre-Lent dinners of child-like carbs. 

I think I just need a little motivation to get me back into the LKTC.  I'm cautiously optimistic about a completely lop-sided trifold plan I have developed while watching bad reality tv (see paragraph one) and wondering what exactly the upstairs neighbors can fight about so frequently and at such a frightening volume.  

It goes a little something like this (my plan, not their fights...we'll save those for another time): exploit new subscription to Bon Appétit (thanks Groupon!), read through latest issue of Cooking Light the parents left behind this past weekend, and break in my little green ramekins making deep dish cookies (about which I just read today, apparently making me the last person on the face of the earth to hear of them).  

I say it is lopsided because two things will likely happen: 1) I will make the cookies first (and let's be serious, there's no dearth of dessert in my life, meaning that is the last thing I should be cranking out in the LKTC), and 2) I will devour said cookies as I tear out pages of the magazines, drip a little of the requisite vanilla bean ice cream on the pages, and file the recipes away for a  later date.  If they're anything like the bajillion recipes I stole from my parents' cook books back in February, they will look real pretty in my lime green binder, but they'll never have to worry seeing the artificial light of day in my kitchen.  

But at least I'm going to make a bit of a renewed effort, which is more than I can say for the past few weeks.  If anything, I can at least avoid future parallels between myself and an animal of the dangerous variety.