Just In Case You Were Wondering . . .

. . . about this blog's brilliant and witty author, here's a bit about me.

First off, I'm a tad bit narcissistic. No one but us self-absorbed types ever pen an "about me" section, FYI.

I don't work. I do the homemaker thing, staying at home to take care of my almost-two-year-old and her ancient creaking first-grader of a big sister. My husband works in IT for a union, which is a fancy way of saying that he fixes menopausal ladies' Outlook problems when he's not busy keeping hundreds of thousands of folks' vital information out of the hands of filthy dirty hackers. It also means he gets shit pay but *great* benefits, which is a huge plus for a hysterical hypochondriac like myself.

I say I don't work, but that's kind of a lie. My day starts at 6 AM when the baby starts flinging formula into my face (that's how she says GOOD MORNING, MOMMY! TODAY WE SHALL BE HYPER AND ANNOYING AND TEAR SHIT UP! I swear, it's like I have my own 28-pound punk band in a crib) and doesn't end until sometime after 8 in the evening when all the dishes are washed and the floors are swept and the laundry is clean and folded and bottle refills have been delivered and lullabyes have been sung and teeth have been brushed and husbands have been laid.

But dinnertime? It's pretty much the highlight of my day. All of these people whom I clothe and bathe and keep from wallowing in abject filth sit around the same table and eat what I've cooked and listen to what I say and the whole experience makes me feel like a halfway sane grownup for about ten minutes before the baby starts pushing the table into her sister's chest and the oldest spits out whatever vegetable I've cooked and I go back to wanting to drink nine pints of whiskey and light something on fire.

So this is why I blog about food. That, and the fact that I'm a REALLY FUCKING GOOD COOK, and also very funny and smarter than you. The Internet needs more people like me. We could almost compensate for Gawker.