See those guys? I think I seriously thought they would live with me one day. No really.
You see, many years ago The Writer and I bought a piece of land out in the country. Now this was a miracle in itself because I found the land and drug him out there to look at it and I AM NOT A COUNTRY GIRL- not by any stretch of the imagination. It’s not that I have anything against the country but I am an only child who has been on a life long quest to be around people. PEOPLE… not coyotes, not tree frogs, certainly not snakes, not a single one of them can listen to my humorous stories or tell me theirs. They don’t invite me to dinner or sing happy birthday to me. Ahhh, but The Writer; that man never met a country he didn’t love. So in my head, I could make this work.
That’s where the trouble began… in my head.
Because you see, the plan was NEVER for it to be just us 3 in a little cabin. Oh no sirree bobtail. In my MIND, there was the main house where the guys above made divine dishes on this little baby.
Ok, this is honest confessions, it was really more like this:
Don’t laugh, it was all planned out in my little noggin. I hired the landscape architect and bought the house plans and broke ground on the little cabin that I always knew would be the guest house because ALL of my friends were so going to want to spend weeks on end with me and the fam….. oh yeah, the fam would be here every Christmas. For a week. And we would cook together and then we would go for long woods walks.
Of course the woods were filled with glorious wildflowers that painted colorful pictures on the terrain. There were hammocks with waiting blankets and books when you tired.
The Writer even bought me a pair of the most awesome riding boots I ever laid eyes on for me to wear with my Jodhpurs. Except that they didn’t fit me…. first clue. My feet aren’t big enough for these shoes.
Reality. We didn’t have 3rd generation money to make this happen. (Those executive chefs…. they make a lot of money!)
My friends hated the place. OK, they didn’t hate it. They hated the drive to get there so they didn’t come.
The fam…. they laughed at us…. and came one Christmas….. for 3 hours.
And me? I just don’t know what to do with that big ole stove that is so gorgeous.
My daughter, Megan, she takes after me. Only she thinks even bigger. But I am so proud of her. She has taken that housewife thing by the horns and she is goin’ after it.
I won’t even begin to tell you what all she has on her plate, aside from three under four that love to call her Mommie. But she is determined to learn to do the things that will allow her to live a gracious life loving her family and friends and to that end, she started Project-Housewife.
I promise you if you read it you will laugh. She is hilarious and so are the antics of the munchkins.
This year she is learning to cook and garden- or at least make pretty, simple flower arrangements from someone else’s garden.
She is hangin’ with those foodie guys that I liked and writing about how they do things. (you can’t believed what I have learned!)
Did you know that if a recipe says 1 cup chopped parsley it means a totally different thing than if it says
1 cup parsley, chopped. lightbulb!
And I hear she killed it with these grilled portobella burgers last week.
So if you dream of Downton but live in (you fill in the blank) laugh along with the rest of us and learn to bloom where you are planted.
In the meantime, jump over Project-Housewife.com. I guaran-dog-tee ya a good time.