I can bake...I cannot cook. I need to stop trying b/c it's only hurting my feelings and causing me to be psychotic. Tonight, CRH was closing for the second night in a row. In the Saturday blog, I mentioned how I was trying to cook more as opposed to feeding Eve and I frozen dinners and Subway on the nights that he works late. I also mentioned that it wasn't going well. I'm 33 years old, one would think I can make simple dishes at the very least. One would be wrong.
Tonight I attempted a sweet corn casserole. It appears that I'm not smart enough to operate our food processor. I called CRH in tears (literally) after I'd tried numerous times to figure it out and to substitute the blender...which was NOT an acceptable option if you are wondering. So he was unable to walk me through it on the phone, which I attributed to my complete and total lack of sense in that room of the house and essentially hung up on him still in tears. Now because I rarely cry (like NEVER), he freaked and called my poor brother, who was also unable to walk me through the food processor issue. After this call, I locked myself in the bathroom and shed a few more tears over my complete inability to prepare one simple freaking dish for my daughter and I to eat, then I put on my big girl panties, drove to Tamura's, got a frozen pizza and a bottle of the new house wine, and called it a night.
I've decided that frozen dinners and Mommy's mental health remaining in tact are MUCH more important than trying to learn to cook. I moved out at 18 and didn't have CRH move in with me until I was 23 and I obviously didn't starve to death and die. Next week, I'll make yummy pies for Thanksgiving b/c I CAN bake, but this was my final attempt at doing anything greater than boiling noodles.
Now, I'm fairly self aware, so this may have been like the lima beans in the Brunswick stew incident, but I think it was mostly about my total inability to cook, bless my heart.