Thursday, August 13, 2009

Dear Pioneer Woman

Dear Pioneer Woman;

I don't think I can eat your Baked Lemon Pasta ever again...

So, I am like the last person in the world to catch onto your blog. My friends, my sister and strangers have mentioned your general awesomeness, but I was slow to the take. After having your oatmeal crispies with friends this past weekend, I was intrigued. I have since scoured your website and look at it maybe 50 times a day. When my daughter is asleep, I pour myself a nice cup of Trader Joe's orange/carrot juice (I wish it was a gallon-sized coffee...pregnancy is so cruel), ignore the dishes, laundry, and unpacking I've yet to do, and curl up with your love story with Marlboro Man, Black Heels to Tractor Wheels

Morning sickness has riddled my life for the past two months, and cooking (bless my husband's heart) has been the last thing on my mind. I've been feeling generally better for the past week, and I was inspired by you to make dinner. I saw your recipe for Baked Lemon Pasta and knew I could do it. I gussied myself up, went to the store with my screeching 5-month old and bought the necessary ingredients. I decided that since my husband wouldn't be home until 6:30 or 7:00, that I would start cooking at 5:00. A good plan right? Well yes, if you don't have the above mentioned 5-month old melting down more and more each minute. Is bedtime this hairy for everyone?? I feel like I need that gallon-sized coffee to make it through. Anyway, I started making the dish...started out really well, and then all heck broke loose. My daughter started bawling, Ashlee Simpson was blaring much too loudly over the Bose, and my head was feeling like it was going to explode. My screaming daughter prompted me to fix her a bottle, which caused her to  scream every time I put in her mouth. If you've seen pictures of her, you know that she does not skip a meal! Quickly decided to put her to bed, and then my husband walks in the door. He managed to finish the pasta, make the sides, and plate our meals. I didn't even finish it! But BOY, was that pasta tasty. Jason even said it tasted like it came from a restaurant, which it totally did! After dinner I fell asleep in my recliner for about an hour before heading to bed. 

And this is where things go terribly wrong. I hopped in the bath, brushed my teeth, washed my face, took my contacts out and jumped into bed. Not two seconds after hopping into bed, waves of nausea washed through me. I jumped up, ran into the bathroom, and you guessed it, I saw the Baked Lemon Pasta for the second, the third, a fourth and a fifth time. I'm devastated because I can never have your pasta dish again. And I'm devastated because I feel like I can't pull it all together. Cooking used to be a leisurely activity for me, and now it's just a race to the finish, which I inevitably puke back up.

So I'm not really sure why I felt the need to write about this. It's just kind of a gross story. But I guess, somewhere deep down inside of me, I want you to know that I'm trying. I'm trying to be the cowgirl that gets back up on the horse after getting bucked off. You've inspired me. Just like you've inspired millions of other women. I know that you'll never read this, even though deep down I wish this were true, but I hope you know what you've added to my life. Recipes, stories, photos, humor and a taste of a woman living in Oklahoma who never thought she'd end up there. 

 

Thank you,

An Oklahoman in Cleveland

2 comments:

Dara said...

I made those Oatmeal Crispies for Blake and Rachel the other day. They are sooo good. I knew you'd love PW. I hate when you get a throw up aversion. I couldn't eat Bennigan's potato soup for like 3 years and now they're out of business and I will never be able to again.

Morgandi said...

Thank you for commenting, Dara. You always save the day when I write un-commentable (nice word, huh?) and silly things. It's always nice to have a friend who will never let you have "0 comments." Oh, the shame.

I love Bennigan's potato soup. Can't believe you have an aversion. Can't believe they're closed...