I wish my creative talents gained from being chronically ill would expand into the realm of cooking. Most of my problem lies with the eating factor. Food/eating holds little to no appeal. When I was younger it was from being sick all the time. No one figured out it was the Celiac's behind it until later. The final result was the doctor's belief being undiagnosed gluten-free left me about 5 inches shorter than the rest of the family ladies and a complete 'meh' attitude towards food.
People love to ask what it is I actually eat. With no eggs, no gluten, lactose-intolerance, and being yeast-free (sugar-free is negotiable most days) the answer is unknown. I don't even know what I eat. Some days I have to remind myself to eat. My mother actually will ask me if i have eaten today and what I've eaten.
My family adores food. They still have trouble understanding my nonchalance towards it. They like to call it the 'see food diet.' They see food. They eat it. Which is why I was slightly incredulous when my mother texted/then called to ask if I could prepare dinner. I cook based on when hunger strikes. So if I'm not hungry, then I don't actually do much cooking. And cooking? I believe is best when a person actually loves to eat.
O my. I love asparagus but every time I have attempted to cook it, it was completely inedible. Dangerous indeed. When it came to the chicken aspect, I can do that. My boyfriend believes differently. Me. Hot stove. Frying pan. He senses the impending doom. After our discussion I happen to be sitting on the other side of the island, about a solid 8 feet from the pan. The asparagus I prepared but refrain from cooking. Poorly cooked asparagus is a tragedy of the greatest kind. I refuse to be the one who brings it about.
We shall see how all this goes. So far no smoke, burning smell, and I am enjoying a delicious rum with coke to celebrate. Cheers to trying something new each day!
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