The Cookbook Project

If you've never seen this movie, you should watch it.  If you have seen it, you know that it is about a girl named Julie who decides to cook her way through Julia Child's cookbook and write a blog about it.  Great, great story.  You can check out the blog that inspired the book and the movie here.

I am not, by any means, interested in learning how to cook French cuisine.  I'm more of a Rachel Ray than a Julia Child.  However, I do love to cook and I love to blog, so I am stealing Julie's idea (sort of).  Now I just have to pick a cookbook...

Here are the ones I already own (we're going with one of those, people, mainly because cookbooks are expensive and I don't want to buy another one right now)...

So, which one should I choose?

I'm leaning towards on of Trisha Yearwood's just because I love her (you have not lived until you have tried her German Chocolate Cake).  But I also have made some really great recipes from the Southern Living Comfort Food book.  Suggestions?

Three babies and a wedding

Somewhere among the stuffed bookshelves in my house is an Emily Post book on etiquette.  I can't find it, so it isn't doing me any good.  Besides, I'm not sure if Emily is still the go-to person for what is and isn't socially expected and acceptable these days anyway.  

I have gotten to that age where all my friends are starting to settle down.  Within the last few months, three friends have had babies and one has gotten married.  Good for them.  I'm happy for them, really.  But all this settling is having a profound impact on my wallet.  This leads me to my etiquette question - what is expected from me when an old friend gets married and/or has a baby? 

I'm obviously not talking about a best friend who I see all the time here.  In that case, I expect to be asked to be in the wedding and I should most definitely be made the baby's godmother (because, really, every kid needs an awesome godmother to spoil them and teach them things their parents don't really want them to know, like Lamp Chop's "The Song That Doesn't End").  

I'm talking about people that I rarely see or talk to anymore, but used to be close with.  People I was friends with in high school (let's not mention how many years ago that was..ahem, almost ten).  I want to get them something to show that I am happy for them and to send them well wishes, but just what am I supposed to send?  Is $20 a good limit?  I used to think so, but have you ever shopped a bridal registry list and tried to buy something for twenty bucks?  You're stuck with towels (boring), a hand mixer (she doesn't even know how to cook), a random piece of china that she'll probably never use, or that mini-crock pot that really has no purpose for even existing.  And what about when a good guy friend gets married to a girl that you really don't know.  Do you buy him a gift?  People even have "handy-man" showers and wedding registries for men these days, and $20 goes absolutely nowhere when guys are asking for lawn mowers and power tools.  So what's a girl to do?   

Then there are baby gifts.  Have you ever shopped for a friend's baby shower before?  Everything in the store is so stinkin' cute and I talk myself into spending way more than I planned.  "Look, it's an Alabama piggy bank!  They can use this to save for the baby's college.  Look, this has ruffles and bows!  Cute!  Adorable!  It has an owl on it and you know they're decorating the nursery with owls..."  (Yes, that is a real conversation that I have had with myself recently concerning one of the baby gifts for one of the three friends mentioned above.  Don't laugh at me.)

And my next question - do I have to buy a gift for every baby that a couple has?  I mean, the first one is a big deal.  But if a friend decides that she and her husband must populate the entire planet and keep having kids, am I obligated to buy something every time?  I mean, they can recycle most of that stuff, can't they?

I asked a guy friend this question last night.  "Would they buy you something if you were getting married?" he asked.  Hmm...  That's a good question, I guess, but it is one that I can't really answer.  His solution - "If you think you have to get them something, get a gift card."

Well, that's practical and everything, but that just isn't any fun.

He also said, "I'm glad I'm not a girl, because thinking about that kind of stuff must be exhausting."

It is.

So, Dear Emily Post, 

All my friends are engaged and pregnant and I am going broke.  What do I do?

I love...

I love the way it smells after a summer afternoon rain, how the thirsty ground releases a musty steam that settles in the air just above the road and dances on the horizon. I love the way the air feels, thick and warm, blowing through the open windows of my car and whipping through my hair around as it melds with the ice cold air blasting from the air conditioning vents. I love the sound of it, roaring through the car and doing its best to compete with the radio and the laughter of my friends.

I love the clink of our empty Yoo-hoo bottles rolling together on the floor boards, the fact that they are still made of glass instead of plastic. I love the country music coming through the speakers, and the way my friends sing along just slightly off key.

I love the crunch of gravel under my tires as I pull off the blacktop, the oranges and pinks of the late afternoon sun peeking over the horizon and casting shadows through the trees. I love the winding road, the sudden twists and turns that I could drive in my sleep, but that somehow still seem to make my stomach lurch.

I love the rusty red gate that Mr. Williams leaves unlocked just for us, the sight of pickup trucks and cars parked haphazardly in the field, the smell of the thick smoke rising from the bonfire the boys are building by the lake.  I love the sound of ice sloshing in the cooler, the crackle and hiss of opening cans, and that first cold, forbidden sip of Natural Light that was smuggled over the state line by somebody’s older brother or cousin.

I love the boy sitting beside me, how he smells like wintergreen Skoal and fresh cut grass and Old Spice, how his hair curls under the bill of his faded Alabama cap. I love the way he keeps his arm draped possessively around my shoulders, the way he grins at me as he points out the lightening bugs dancing around the reeds by the lake, the way his lips brush against my ear when he whispers secrets to me when nobody is looking.