FREE COOKING CLASS

Or, free with purchase of food. My find of the week: if you eat out at hibachi style restaurants, you also get a cooking class!

What I learned over a work bday lunch:

1) unless you ask for no or light butter, you will get a shit load of garlic butter in your rice. What I took from this - butter makes things taste good. Too bad I already learned that from Julie/Julia.

2) Anything dumped onto a sizzling hot surface will cook pretty quickly. Maybe this is what I need to fix my "starving by the time I go to cook" problem - a big griddle!

3) raw meat is gross. My kids are going to be vegetarians so I don't have to touch that stuff.
(eeeeeeew gross raw meet)

4) They use these cute little steamers to cook the veggie meals ... I need one of these asap! I found this pretty bamboo one on line and shall be ordering pronto. Going to have to hide it from the BF - he's convinced I buy too many products that I don't use.
(inside this steamer are my delicious veggies)

I'LL KNIT YOUR BABY A BLANKET

Confession of the day: I am addicted to deal sites. And by addicted I mean, I spend a shit load of money on things that I would otherwise not need but since they're half off I must have. (excuse the run on sentence please.)

I tried to cut down on these deals but I started to get the shakes as I let them slip by ... so my new justification:

IF THEY ARE RELATED TO LEARNING DOMESTIC DUTIES I A

M ALLOWED!

Just in time to for todays Groupon ... ARTS AND CRAFTS!! Okay, okay, it's not really domestic duties. But if I limit myself to taking classes like knitting or crocheting it is ... right? My theory is that a complete woman should know how to make a baby blanket at a gift for a friend. I can't let my friends babies go around sleeping under store bought blankets. In my mind I can make this pile of awesomeness that I found at the PURL BEE site.

Confession #2 of the day: I've actually taking a crocheting class at HANDS ON 3RD before. It was really great ... I was just really, really bad. I was also the only one there alone. I guess most girls do that kind of thing for girly bonding?? Anyone want to make me feel better and come with? If you do I'll buy you coffee after ... and knit your kid a blanket ... GET THE DEAL HERE!

I DID NOT GET MY MOTHER'S GENES

Or her jeans. And I'd love to have a couple of her 70s pairs.

My mom makes homes pretty. Organized and pretty. She knows things about fabrics that sound like pig latin to me. When she met BF her first reaction to "Indian" was "I have to ask him about the silk in India." What?!

My mother ... where to start ... she lives in a cute, cozy home that's two sizes too small but still manages to feel like home and smell like Christmas. She currently works at a store that if I named you'd all be jealous about (lets just say ... 40% off is a real bonus. And mom, I have my eye on a couple pieces for XMas.) She's always saying things like "you know, I understand the house wife ... it's a full time job to pick out curtains and keep a home up." To this I roll my eyes and down a glass of wine ... "sure mom, whatever you say to make yourself not want to punch out your customers."

Except ... except ... shit. I think she's right. I have made the decision to MOVE ... little known fact about moving - it follows "death of a spouse" and the #2 stressful thing to go through. With the word move comes the word DECORATE. "But I don't have time for all this, I have a job." And there it is - my mom's words.

But I'm not a housewife with kids and an excuse to quit my job (plus, let me reiterate, I love my job.) So I must decorate and declutter and budget for these expenses on the lunch break.

Here are the current photos on the google doc I have going labled "WISHES FOR APARTMENT." Note the word "wishes." We shall see what really unfolds ...

INSPIRATION

This idea that I'm not that great at anything related to the home is not a new one. It's something that's been kicking around for some time in my head. And every time I feel super discouraged, I look at my friend Kate's blog ... and get more discouraged.

No, I kid. I get inspired. I'm sure somewhere inside of me is this artsy kick ass woman like Kate. Maybe?

Kate's apartment is like what my apartment looks like in my dreams before I wake up and slip on a pile of dirty clothes. It's colorful and original and organized and clean. Like a house should be.

Adding to her kick ass-ness, she also helped design Rachel's kick-ass wedding...

AND designs the most kick-ass jewelry that helps me strike awesome poses like this one (yes, the other ginger is my brother.)

I am resigned to the fact that I may never be Mr.Kate ... but I will keep following her lead into the world of pretty, unique style.

Inspiration. Keep it coming.

CLEANLINESS IS NEXT TO GODLINESS?

Isn't there some weirdo phrase like that? If that's true then maybe I should be an atheist.

Update on GOAL #2: Apartment has been clean for 2 days! I realize the fact that this has an ! after it is pathetic. I have a serious problem putting things away. I don't know why ... I've really thought long and hard about my childhood and what would make me this way. The only thing I can come up with (and believe me, I use this as an excuse all the time) is that I never ever had my own room ... so now that I'm a big bad grownup and have my own place, I will damn well messy it up. And no one will tell me to clean up!

Except that I'm now taking major steps to fix my brain and all its issues ... so this will no longer be an acceptable excuse. Bye, bye traumatic room-sharing memories of my sisters reading my diary and my brothers waking me up with Nerf guns pointed at my head.

LOOK WHAT I FOUND!

A site that has therapy for people like me!! 20 cures in 20 days ... hmmmmm. We shall see if I can follow through. I mean, I've always wanted to go to therapy.

http://cure.apartmenttherapy.com/2010/fall

WHAT'S COOKING GOOD LOOKING?

Okay, I'm not really good looking in these photos. Rainy saturday ... aka my day off from sunscreen and makeup. (also I've been thinking - shouldn't sunscreen be covered for skin cancer patients? Nutrogena's been getting a lot of my money. Just saying.)

Cooking class #1 complete. The follow through was made a little easier by the fact that I dragged along BF. But it was FUN! A couple thoughts:

- we made really yummy candied nuts. Except the teacher kept saying things like "depending on how warm you like your nuts" and "if you like your nuts on the spicier side." Apparently no one else hears this and gets thrown into a fit of giggles.

- of course she made me crack the eggs for the class. This gives me hives. I must have ruined some pie in my past life by getting shell in the eggs.

- expensive knives make cooking easier. Reason #435 to get engaged so we can register for all this stuff that we'll use once.

- I finally found something in the kitchen I'm better at than BF - rolling empanadas. Only downside is that we'll probably never ever again make empanadas. Maybe we should've taken the Indian cooking class instead of tapas.

Major bonus of the class was that they "taught us how to make

sangria" and then served it. So I was sufficiently buzzed by the

time we sat down for the cute dinner we made.

Parting thought: If wine is served, I will go back for more! Goal 1.5: Cook one of these things at home. Probably the flan.

GOAL #2

A couple years ago I had too much beer weight on and I downloaded some weird motivational thing to listen to while trying to shed the fun off. Being a fairly middle of the road american female, Oprah had something to do with it.

This is what I remember: Oprah's voice telling me to strip down naked and look at myself in the mirror. "Really look. Take in the fat. Be honest with yourself." (something to that effect) I think the point was that once naked, its all out there - you're fat.

I'm not fat. But I am messy. I am to messy what obese is to fat ... ? I will not be standing naked in front of my mirror today ... mostly because I can't get close enough. Too many clothes on the floor. Instead I will be posting a photo of my coffee table in all its glory.

GOAL #2 - CLEAN UP MY LIFE (in the organizational, clean home way)

FLEAS!!

When we first got Jazz I thought "oh yay! A starter baby!" ... and then I realized she was 4 years old with tons of medical problems. Oh rescue dogs, how cute and problem ridden you are.

Jazz has fleas. Lots and lots of them. When the vet called me with the answer to the itching he said in a super condescending voice "Jazz has lots of fleas ... did you not notice how irritated her skin is?" This voice is why I don't go to the dentist (pretend you didn't read that.) But really, I don't really go to the dentist ... they always make me feel so bad about everything. Like it's my fault my irish ancestors gave me weak enamel. And don't get me started about the eye doctor. They know I can't read the chart! I couldn't read it last year and I can't read it now, have some compassion. So no, I did not notice that her skin was super irritated.

But here I am, defleaing my apartment. I am not happy about this fact ... I am so unhappy that I call up Boyfriend and yell "you have to get back here! I can't be a single mom by my ..." And then I trail off because Chilean miner #2 has just been pulled out of the earth and is bouncing around like he won the lotto. And I'm whining about defleaing an apartment. Ugh.

Okay, okay ... lesson learned. Maybe just shut up and do "wife like" things. Maybe don't complain about things that though totally gross, are totally funny when you look back at them. Right? Looking back at capturing blood sucking bugs that feast on their own feces will be funny in a couple days ... right? Until the next flea infestation ...

(btw how cute is jazz getting a flea bath??)

MAKE ME AN (INDIAN) WIFE

The title of this post is enough to fill a whole blog itself ... but we'll start simple

Little background story: I date an indian male. I am a white female. A great part of my journey to becoming a good girlfriend has been navigating this whole mixed culture thing we call a melting pot.

Present day: we went to an amazing hinjew wedding this weekend - complete with BFs parents dressing me! The results are below and if I do say so myself, I rock a sari better than a cocktail dress. Thankfully, I thought ahead and wore full butt underwear - I would have died about a thousand deaths had I been wearing my sequined "sexy" thong (I think this pair is left over from a birthday when I was single and my friends thought this would help me?) Because you see, to put on a sari you must have a lot of help. A lot of help which starts by standing in ones underwear.

Not sure you can rock a sari? How wrong you are ... check out these non-tradional (read: non indian) sari wearers:

EEEECK I PAID MY $65

FOR COOKING CLASS!

I can write that off, right? Side note: have to get a good and shady tax guy. I say guy because they're more shady then the ladies.

I went with a tapas themed class because 1) I like tapas 2) it comes with sangria 3) it was the soonest class that didn't require cooking meat. I don't eat meat because I read that "Skinny Bitch" book when it was all the rage. Also, I was secretly trying to impress my Hindu boyfriend who then didn't eat meat ... but now does. So I win.

Here's the menu for the class:

• Marinated olives
• Spicy candied nuts
• Pure de garbanzo w/ pita toasts
• Manchego con Membrillo (Spanish cheese with quince paste)
• Tortilla Española & spicy salad
• Camarones Bravas - garlicky saffron shrimp
• Empanadillas Argentinas
• Flan with caramel designs

Alright, you got me. I also chose this class because it seems like a good starter one. How hard can marinating olives be?

(CUT TO: me crying in a vat of olive juice trying to make a dirty martini)

I'm a little excited - it only took starting a blog to make myself shell out $65 to learn how to make garbanzo with pita toast! Photos to come ... unless I burn down their kitchen.

7:43pm ON A FRIDAY

Just walked in the door from work. So tired my brain hurts. Do real people really cook dinner right now and then entertain the thought of a social evening?

Me, this is what I will be doing for the next couple hours:

(yes, this is a creepy self taken photo)

RACHEL'S STORY...

When I was born, my mom made me a quilt. Let's rephrase. When I was born, my mom started to make me a quilt. And she finished on the day I left for college. Now my mom is one of those has-it-all-together women, so this procrastination was a freak occurence for her. But rather than learn her all-togetherness, procrastination was the skill I decided to take.

But I recently became a wife. And let's face it, it's strange to label myself as that because besides loving my husband, I don't really act as such. But I'd like to.

The other day, my husband (who I have lived with for over a year) said to me, "we don't have an ironing board, do we?" Embarrassingly, the answer is yes, we do. I've just never used it. Sidenote: what we don't have is a vacuum. This brings me to my next thought. Since I've become a wife, I feel way less wifey than ever before. And I don't like that. There's something about this rite of passage that makes me want to denounce my modern ways and embrace old school wifehood. But how to find the time?

Marriage for me coincided with my first ever full time job (at the ripe old age of thirty). So all of a sudden I find myself with no time to do anything. Or maybe I'm spending all my free time complaining about having no time, therefore encroaching on the free time I actually do have. Which leads me to the conclusion that it's simply not possible to do it all... and I call bullshit on anyone who claims they can. And I believed that until I had drinks with my agent.

My agent, is a hip, cool, stylish, successful businesswoman, wife and mother of two. MOTHER OF TWO. And somehow she finds the time to get her kids ready for school, workout for an hour while reading scripts, work all day, spend time with her kids after work, make a gourmet meal for she and her husband, have drinks with ME, and still actually sleep. On a daily basis. I'm not sure if I can squeeze all of this in on a weekly basis. All I manage to do on this list is ... none of it. Just kidding, I totally microwave Trader Joe's frozen food.

So I think it's time to embrace this wife/adult thing and actually act like one. And now, not 18 years after I start.

GOAL #1

You know it's bad when ...

You come home to a boyfriend who's had a bad day ... and he's making you dinner. You know it's even worse when instead of helping you're just standing there watching him stir. (really, I'm bad at stirring.)

The crazy person in my head says "but audrey, you went to work. You deserve dinner cooked for you." But then New and Improved Audrey sits on the other shoulder and reminds me "hey loser, the rest of America works. Get over your job." Sigh, I'm going to have to stop using this excuse. On a side note - is it just LA or do other people feel like having a full time job gives them grounds to complain and be lazy?

So here's the deal - I HAVE TO LEARN TO COOK. I mean, how can I go around telling everyone and their mother (or is it just my boyfriend I say it to?) that I want kids on the nowish side of now when I won't even be able to cook them dinner? For the sake of my unborn children, I am going to learn to cook.

GOAL #1: COOKING CLASS. I'm thinking HIPCOOKS so that I can feel hip whilst cooking. And also because perfect fiance from first post recommended them.

BTW - I find the title of this book cruel. But hopefully I will have a post filled with joyous photos after my first class.

AUDREY'S STORY ...

Before you get all "how dare you want to be a housewife" on us, let's get this out of the way: we have jobs. We love our careers. And that's kind of the problem ... how the hell do you do all the stuff that you're supposed to as a woman/wife/girlfriend/person while still doing your full time job that leaves you tired at night? Or are we the only ones who just don't get it?

Let's rewind 12 hours:

My boyfriend and I went to dinner last night with a recently engaged couple. Half way through the wife-to-be telling me about her day, I started to shrink in my chair. If the wine hadn't been $14 a glass, I would have ordered two more glasses to chug.

Here's my typical day:

- wake up. Complain .

- try to work out. This in itself felt like an accomplishment. Boyfriend and I make it to the gym by 8 which for us is a huge deal. I last 20 minutes on the treadmill.

- go to work

- lunch break aka gossip time

- come home and take dog out for short walk. Ooops, forgot to buy him food. I can do that tomorrow, right?

- go on the internet and look at dumb blogs that serve no purpose (or do they?)

- decide to go out to dinner because we haven't grocery shopped and we're too lazy to figure it out.

- sleep

Here was her typical day:

- wake up

- prep dinner for she and her and fiance (this is where I start sweating ...)

- go to work

- go to gym at lunch break and get work done while on treadmill for the whole hour

- come home and make beautiful, mouth watering dinner that she had prepped that morning

- serve fiance cheese while cooking

- watch a TV show and discuss

- sign up for a class to better herself

- peacefully go to sleep

Where did I go wrong? I have a very capable role model of a mother who managed to work, raise 5 kids, feed us, seem like she was around a lot, keep the house clean ... I guess I just didn't pick up anything from her?

So that's it - I must figure it out. I must figure out how to do all of this stuff and still have time to decompress in a calming yoga class. You know, because I don't break a sweat - it's just sooooo easy for me. (a girl can dream.)

Plus, I want to be a woman you want as a wife. There, I said it.