Cookaholic

I don’t know if it’s common to get as excited about cooking food as I can get with cooking my husband dinner. My guess is that it might have to do with the fact that I was deprived of cooking for all of my life. There was also that terrible fear of messing up and giving myself food poisoning with raw meats.

I have decided to name myself a Cookaholic because of how much I’ve been cooking combined with my excitement for not killing myself or my husband.

The day before I did something that I totally in a million years thought I would ever do because I thought I had to throw it up in the air like you see in the movies and that just wouldn’t work. I’d toss it up in the air only to have it be stuck on the ceiling or stuck in my hair when gravity would take over and bring it back down.

What is this mystery meal I’m taking about with throwing it, tossing it, and spinning it with the agility I know I don’t have in the kitchen? Why, I am taking about making homemade pizza. It wasn’t exactly from scratch because I bought the dough but I am still giving myself brownie points because I did not have a clue what I was doing!

I have always either gone to a restaurant, ordered in, or bought a frozen pizza. I never even imagined making it myself, it just came to me when this lady was doing a food demo with the pizza dough and ingredients. With my husbands encouragement that I might be able to do it myself I bought the pizza dough, sauce, cheese, and pepperoni slices with a silent wish that I wouldn’t burn it to oblivion. The cost of everything was even cheaper than getting a frozen pizza and much, much cheaper than getting it delivered for sure.

I used a type of cookie sheet, let the dough rest, and then started to play with it. Pizza dough has one of the strangest textures that is even more pronounced when you are stretching and pulling it. I wondered if I was doing it right, slapped on some sauce, cheese, and pepperoni, and shoved it in the oven. I stood with my head inches from the oven as I watched for it to be ready and timed it on my stop watch to keep track of the time.

What was the result? Did I fail my culinary challenge? Why, believe it or not, I so passed it! That homemade pizza was amazing and I got enough dough to do it all over again when my husband is out-of-town. Hopefully the second time will be just as successful and it wasn’t just a fluke.

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My hair called a truce

There’s been this problem with my hair that has bothered me for several months. My mother felt my hair during this time and gasped, looked at me funny, and exclaimed, “Sarah, your hair is like the best part about you!”

Wow, mom, didn’t know that the best thing about me is a great head of uncolored, virgin, straight hair. My hair can annoy me because it basically battles against me, and wins, when I try to style it. You flip it out and it flips in, you flip it in and it flips out. The most stubborn part of me must be my head which is the site of the growth of my hair so it just likes to say screw you to me if I do anything more than just letting it air dry.

It seems to me that it has finally relented. My hair has called a truce, I think. Or, it’s just trying to get reinforcements to battle me for what is going to be an all out war. It could be fooling me, though I hope not.

I have been using high end shampoo and conditioner from my work that I got from our back order. It is good stuff, high-end, and smells very nice without making the man sick by sniffing my hair. This is a win+win!  But, ever since I have been rinsing, washing, conditioning, and all that my hair turned into a gooey mess. It’s like a film is being left over, plus, when it gets to be its worst it feels like I washed my hair with marshmallow fluff.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I love marshmallow. I love marshmallow fluff, but I do not love it if it feels like my hair has been soaking in it. I switched out the high-end stuff for Head and Shoulders, went to Suave, tried to do everything. I talked to the hair dressers and their lips curled up in disgust as I told them about my lower end alternatives of Head and Shoulders/Suave. I was ready to literally throw in the towel and maybe just shave my hair right off like a crazed Britney Spears. But, I talked to another gal and she told me to use more shampoo then just a little bit and it should wash out better.

This is what I have been doing, and it seems like it may be working. I really do want to keep on using the high-end stuff if he’s not allergic to it, because it just feels very “la de da” using it and I love that feeling. I know, I know, I’m such a product whore, I can’t help it!

Missing that Ball

Arizona, 2011, the wooden donkey

Sometimes I wonder why I purposefully miss the ball on things. Reading certain popular books I’ll wait until the fever for the book calms down years later and then try my hand at it. Same goes for my generally queasiness when it comes to social network sites. I was into doing blogs before blogs were even in. As a kid I’d make my own websites and create several blogs years and years ago, instead of doing homework. Whoops.

I’ve also never been the one to hunt after conventional jobs and careers. First I was a dog groomer for 2 1/2 years, now I’m a massage therapist for 3 years, and before that I did volunteer work with a nature garden, a space center-like place, and a bunch of other odd, but fun, things.

My favorite hobbies were like bowling, golfing, fishing, biking, bug collecting (since before I could talk I collected bugs in my plastic see-through purse) and many other…. non-girly stuff. I still hold onto a fascination with bugs to this day, and I’m absolutely enthralled with the ocean too. I find that so cool and if I could breathe air under water I’d probably never come up from a pool, or more importantly, the ocean if I had built-in gills.

Do I love the sound of not falling the crowd or is it just in me, since I was a child, to be well… rather an odd ball?

I think it’s probably the second one. There have always been people who shake their heads at me, who call me weird, strange, unusual, and many other words. And when I was younger this would make me self conscious, but now-a-days I puff out my chest, look them in the eye, give them a kooky smile and say, “What took you so long to figure that out?”