A Woman’s Worth

Here’s the thing. All babies are cute. Baby ducks are cute, baby rabbits are cute. Puppies and kittens make YouTube one of the most visited sites on the Internet. And I’m sure baby River Otters are about the most adorable things on the planet. My child is cute. 
 

But at what point do we stop telling little boys that they are cute and pretty while we continue doing that for little girls. I feel like much of society bases a woman’s worth upon her physical beauty. So while people keep telling my daughter that she’s cute, I keep pointing out numbers and letters. I point out plants and animals. I point out her grandmother’s art work we have hanging in our house, the photo of her great grandmother in front of the plane she flew as part of the WAC, and photos of her Aunts who all have masters degrees. I point out her Mother’s MD framed degree.

My Grandmother in WWII

 
I want the world for my daughter. And with her strong, accomplished, and feminist role models I’m sure she will be able to do anything she likes. She’ll end up smart. Which is beautiful.  

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Kitchen Confidential: I used to cook?

After my freshman year of high school I got my first paying taxes job. I got hired on to work in the kitchen of the local pool’s snack bar. I worked making burgers, fried chicken sandwiches, nachos, etc. The job payed minimum hourly wage, but the perks were awesome. They let me eat as much as I wanted to. 

 This started me on a long path of working food and bev jobs. I’ve worked many different positions in F&B, but mostly as a bartender. Still, I consider myself a pretty decent cook (I know I’m not on the level of the professional chefs or line cooks in this town. You guys rock), and it is my favorite hobby. Most family gatherings you can find me in the kitchen or over a grill cooking for everyone. I love cooking for large groups but I also really enjoy cooking for just me and my wife.  I make most of the meals we eat at home.  

Or I used to make most of our meals at home. Now with the kid, cooking has become much more difficult. Lunch, when I’m by myself, has become much harder of a chore. I’ve started one hand cooking. Which means I’m holding the baby with one arm, and trying to make myself food with the other. If I’m smart, and have planned ahead, this isn’t so bad, “That gazpacho I made yesterday? Perfect for lunch”. When I haven’t planned ahead it’s more like “hmm… I wonder if I can make a couple hard boiled eggs and have some carrot sticks?”. And when I haven’t slept or planned ahead, “it looks like I’m eating a handful of nuts and this granola bar that may have been packaged when N’Sync was popular”. So what I’m really trying to say with this blog post is: feel free to bring me some food. This fat kid is starving.

This is how I pack for family gatherings

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