As I’ve mentioned (I think), I am soon-to-be moving into my very own apartment, my very first apartment. Although I still plan to be home on weekends to be close to my awesome mom, family, friends, church, and do some laundry– moving an hour away allows me to be super-close to school while avoiding some of the down-sides to on-campus living (lack of privacy, sharing a bathroom, and a kitchen full of allergens in my case!).
The prep for this big step has led to many feelings. There is joy in brightly colored dishtowels. There is fear of loneliness. There is excitement about setting up a home, and cooking, and thoughts of having company over. There is sadness to be leaving my home now, with my mom and my comfortable life, even if I will be home for most weekends. I am brainstorming of how I want to decorate; the feel I want to create , the pictures I want around, how I want to remember my grandparents in my new space– a space I think they would have loved.
And then something happened the other day. I was making Green Pea Pesto, with the hopes of blogging about it (note: a great alternative as a nut-free pesto! I would however, alter the recipe. I may tackle this in another post.). Well, while tasty, there were some, umm, technical difficulties with the creation of this dish. The recipe describes a 5-minute process of tossing the ingredients into a blender and being done with it. Well, my usually very reliable blender just wouldn’t blend the thick consistency of the peas and the garlic– the bit of oil just wasn’t enough liquid. But at first, I thought my blender had broken. So I put it in my mini-blender, which is also usually a fabulous little thing with enough power but the size of a single serving (that becomes a travel cup). Still nothing. Both motors spun the blades, severing the closest peas and sending them flying, leaving the blades spinning while the pesto remained untouched in a circle around it. Finally, I wound up mashing the rest of the peas, and picking out the rest of the un-pulverized garlic, which was unpleasant (the dish was also far too garlic-y, and I am a big fan of my garlic). This led me to the realization, that this recipe may call for a food processor. I’ve never owned one. Talking to mom, she suggested that maybe I should think of getting one. Most are reasonably priced and are fairly multi-functional, able to blend and chop and do all other kinds of things.
Which gets me to my point: Although I love to cook, I had never considered getting a food processor before. To me, this always seemed like a “big” item. Something I wanted, but didn’t really need. Something that I’d put on a bridal shower registry, not buy for myself.
But why not? Do I need pesto so desperately? No. But why is cooking for myself in a kitchen only owned by me less legitimate than my “someday” kitchen where my husband and I both cook and there’s two of us (and at some point maybe a couple of kids)? While I have been in save-money mode– if and when I have money, I don’t flinch much at buying gifts for others (if, say, I had to buy a food processor off a friend’s bridal registry). I also wouldn’t flinch if I was treating myself to a new techy item. Or to put it on a birthday or Christmas wishlist, in the very least. But there has been something “off limits” about a food processor, although I didn’t realize I felt that way. (Apparently, a bread machine brings up similar feelings for me.)
What are we waiting for? What else am I not doing for silly reasons? What are you not doing?
You may never “arrive.” So for the little things, don’t wait! Use the good china. Write until all the stationery is gone. Save up for the coveted item. Watch the movie (I’ve not seen a lot of movies waiting to go with someone I *promised* to go with). To quote my dear Eleanor (Roosevelt), “You must do the thing you think you cannot do!”
What are you waiting for?