The Hardest Part is Getting Started

I am a chicken. There are many things I am afraid of. My recent trip to Colorado reminded me of my significant fear of heights. Being a passenger in car while driving in the mountains was excruciating. I have to imagine it was even worse for Tariq, my beau. He had to hear me scream out, "watch out" multiple times. I jerked and squirmed with each passing vehicle. I don't know how he didn't just dump me over the edge. I hate being anxious and my anxiety has increased with age.

So, I put off telling people I am starting this blog. Why? Because I am scared. Scared of what, I can't imagine. Being boring, repetitive or just plain annoying. Who cares? You don't have to read this and I will never know the truth. Of course... I look forward to your comments. Not only do I want to express myself but I want to engage you in the process and learn a thing or two.

When it comes to food and cooking I am bold. I will basically eat anything. I wouldn't want to be on Food Network eating bats but I rarely have refused to try a new food. Fry a bug, saute a testicle and I would be game. Just spice it up please. I hate bland food. I have dinner parties using new recipes that have zillions of steps and include ingredients I have never used before. Why aren't I afraid of failure or falling off the "culinary cliff"? Who knows.

Before I close, I want to acknowledge my baked garnet sweet potato. I baked two at breakfast time while I drank my morning coffee. They called to me, promising to be creamy and somewhat caramelized. They filled the house with the scent of Thanksgiving. I ate one half of a potato at lunchtime and it delivered on its promise. I have carefully refrigerated the rest for later. So simple, so delicious and healthy to boot. Yum.

"It's all about me". What else can you say about blogging? Who cares what I think, how I feel and what I eat? Maybe no one, but my hope is I will learn from this exercise, about myself and the world around me. These are tough times for humankind. I have a thin skin and can hardly bare to hear the daily news. After spending my career focused on child abuse and neglect, it is time for me to step back from the dark side, learn to breathe, and find joy in my relationships, my privileged life and my love of food.
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I don't know about you, but feeding my feelings has always been a way of coping. Hard day? Eat ice cream. Feel dejected? Have a bagel. Proud of an accomplishment? Lobster dipped in butter. As a result, I am constantly watching my weight, often to no avail.

I love to cook and participate in food related activities. The foodie world had exploded and I love it. There are a million food related blogs. This blog will not focus on recipes or ingredients but rather on the feelings that come from cooking a good meal, eating a luscious piece of cake, the burst of sweetness when biting into a fresh-picked ear of corn or the actual act of just consuming good food alone or with friends.

Don't know where this is going but I hope you will come along.