10 Years of Sharing This Blog

Moment of Truth – I started writing this blog on the actual anniversary (6 June) and I am just now getting around to publishing it…yeah, it’s like that.

About a dozen years ago I met author Vicki Pettersson completely by chance at Borders bookstore. I was buying her newly released first book and she was at the checkout as well. She shared with me that I was the first reader she ever saw buy her book. Kind of like a musician hearing their song on the radio for the first time. I am not sure who was giddier, me or her. As luck would have it, I learned that she came into my life at just the right time. After several meetings I mentioned that I was thinking of starting a blog, but I was worried that I didn’t have anything of value to say or share. She looked me square in the face and said, “Does that stop anyone else? You have a voice. Use it!” So, 10 years ago last month, this blog was born. Thank you, Vicki, for the kick in the pants.

I Over-Shared…a lot

In 10 years’ time I have shared a lot. I’ve shared recipes (that link will take you to the recipe archive on the site with ALL the recipes). My travels to Europe, Egypt, and many other places have been shared in words and photos, and sometimes a video or two. Sometimes when I share that kind of stuff, I feel I am bragging. Like, “Hey! Look what I am doing/eating/experiencing that you aren’t.” And then someone will thank me for sharing and I feel validated and less like a douchey braggart. Upon the death of Anthony Bourdain, I shared my own personal struggles with depression and suicidal thoughts. In 10 years, I may have over shared. I started out just talking about food, and inadvertently ended up sharing parts of my life, and heart, and soul with all of you, because my life revolves around food. The making of it, the eating of it, the sharing of it, and so on. To those of you who have been following along since the beginning, I thank you for sticking with me. To those who EVER read my words, I am truly grateful.

10 Years? Time Means Nothing

When I first started, my intention was to write something weekly. And for a while I did that, but even someone who talks as much as I do runs out of valuable things to say after 10 years. I didn’t want to blather on about nothing, and sometimes silence is golden. Moment of Truth: I have had writer’s block (or content fatigue or thought constipation – take your pick) since my Dad died, so the golden silence stretched into months at a time. I wanted this content to be more than masturbatory self-promotion, I wanted you to really enjoy reading it. It’s hard to come up with fresh, valid content ALL. THE. FUCKING. TIME.

And Then COVID Happened

Sister Nancy inspired me to do a set of online cooking classes during the shutdown after I told her about the SecretBurger cook along events that were going on here in Vegas. For a while that was exciting, and now those live cooking classes with my sister have dried up too, for a variety of reasons (primarily the one below). I didn’t want to regurgitate the same shit you see from everyone else, and I truly felt (feel) I have nothing original to say or share right now…but wait, let me catch you up!

But Wait! There’s More…

Earlier this year, I finally convinced my husband to sell The Big House and downsize to something smaller. We moved downtown to a pre-war home that needs a LOT of TLC. I could bore you with details, but let’s just say that I have spent the equivalent of a micro-nation’s GDP on plumbing since moving into this lovely storybook looking house. I have thought of documenting, in words and pics, the process of the remodel, but there are literally hundreds of blogs about that if you are truly interested. We are really enjoying living downtown and walking to many of our fave dining and drinking establishments. One of the reasons the cooking classes have dried up is that my kitchen is a fucking nightmare, complete with electric stove, exposed MDF cabinets with the laminate peeling off the edges, and crowded counters.  The only things I love in my kitchen right now are my new fridge and my Boos block commercial worktable that I have repurposed as an island. Once the kitchen remodel is complete, the classes will resume. I promise.

When you reach middle age, 10 years flies by in the blink of an eye. Some days it feels like I just started this writing project. But more than that, relationships change. My relationship with writing has changed. My relationships with people, places, and things have changed. The way I respond to events is different now, in part to aging. An event that in my teen years would have caused a messy snot filled girl cry, did not bother me at all recently. I seriously have no fucks left to give for bull shit. I have no space or time for people who irritate me like a rash. There is no room in my head space for those who make me feel shitty in any way.

Things Change…

The passing of 10 years has put me fully into middle age and heading toward senior citizenship. I find myself now, oddly, at a point in my life when I see old friends after a long absence, I ask about their health. Yes, really.  A dear friend of mine from high school blew through town recently on a road trip. We hadn’t seen each other in nearly 2 years (thanks COVID), but I know he has a heart condition and worries about his blood sugar. After a huge hug (he said it was the first hug in over a year), the first questions out of my mouth were, “How’s your heart?” and “How’s your blood sugar.” And it wasn’t weird. For us. For now. It just is who we are in middle age.

The bottom line is this, what started out as a way to communicate my love for food, has morphed into something else across 10 years. I do hope you keep reading, sharing, and enjoying this small bit of myself. To be fair, I share more on Instagram, so if you consistently want to see what I am doing, you should follow me there!

Pet Peeves 2015

Before we get into the meat of this – THANK YOU! It has been nearly 4 years since I began this blog, a passion project really, and I appreciate each and every click, like and share. If you are subscribed to this blog thank you twice! My goal this year is to double my readership, so if you love this, share it! If you hate it, share it twice <snicker>. And of course, follow along on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter for more bites.

I have been crabby and restless lately and it makes me want to write about being crabby and restless. The thing is when I am crabby my pet peeves come to the forefront and as I thought about it, I realized I hadn’t shared with all of you in a while the things that make my head explode. So here’s this year’s list. If I have shared any of them before it’s because they STILL piss me off. Be warned this post will be riddled with foul language.

  • Gentlemen – remove your fucking hat at the damn table unless it is a yarmulke. Few things annoy me more than seeing grown ass men wearing baseball caps, cowboy hats or the hipster trilby and fedora at the table. And while we are on the subject of hats, baseball hats are meant to keep the sun out of your eyes, if you are going to wear one, put the fucking bill in the FRONT where it belongs.
  • Ladies – wear shoes that are your size. No one wants to see you slip slopping out of your too high heels and busting your ass. Additionally I don’t want to see your heels and or toes hanging over the edges of your shoes. I REALLY can’t stand it when a celebrity on the red carpet has toes hanging out of her shoes. Fire your damn stylist woman because she isn’t doing her job.
  • I have been reading a LOT of other work online lately and all I can say is WOW! I know many bloggers write because it is their passion. A few write to placate their own egos and others because they have info of value to share. TIP: Use the spellchecker for Christ’s sake! It’s free! I have seen so many grammatical, spelling and punctuation fuck ups this week that my eyes were bleeding. I read one piece that had so many mistakes I had to stop reading and it was on a NEWS SOURCE. That asshat was PAID to write and it was a disaster. (If you find mistakes in here, post in the comments so I can fix them! I try really hard to keep my shit in line.)
  • While we are on the subject, use real words. I once read a blog post and the writer wrote at the completion of a recipe, and I shit you not, “Wala! It’s done!” Wala?  What the actual fuck is Wala? Did they mean voila? I write “sandWISH”. I hope the capitalization is a clue to everyone reading it that it is a chuckle worthy word and one of my own making, like Rachel Ray’s “sammies”. I usually will put an asterisk with a footnote for first time readers to clue them in.
  • If you don’t want the truth, don’t ask for it. I have been called brutally honest and I consider that a compliment. If you ask me for my opinion and I say, “Do you want the truth, or do you want me to tell you what you want to hear?” chances are you aren’t going to be happy with me when I am done speaking.
  • I despise bars where I can’t smoke (don’t judge me). If I can’t light up with my beer, I am going to be irritated. THIS peeve is my biggest problem with the states of California and Washington.
  • And while we are on the subject, if I am allowed to smoke, empty my goddamn ash tray. AND bring it back. I recently had a cocktail waitress at a casino bar who took my ashtray when I asked for it be emptied (Moment of Truth – I should never have to ask for my water glass to be filled or my ashtray to be emptied) and then she was gone for 15 minutes. Where the hell was I s’posed to put my butts? On the carpet?
  • On the topic of bars, it aggravates me when there are no purse hooks under the bar. It’s almost as if they don’t want women to sit there. NO, I don’t want to hang my purse on the back of my chair where it might fall, get knocked off or get stolen (yes that happens). It’s even more aggravating when I am sitting on a true bar STOOL and there is no back to my seat.
  • And finally, I have a real problem with people who talk shit about others behind their backs. Be courageous. Do the right thing. Don’t say anything behind someone’s back that you wouldn’t say to their face if asked. Trust me, you’ll feel better.