Coming Clean About my Porn Addiction

Now before you start judging, I'm not talking about a normal porn addiction.  No naked sweaty bodies on this computer screen, no sirree.  I'm addicted to a far worse kind of porn- food porn.  Don't know what it is?  I've taken the liberty of finding you the Urban Dictionary meanings of it.  This is my personal favorite:

5. taking mouthwatering pictures of delicious foods and proliferating them throughout various social media websites as status updates, thus tempting all those not even currently hungry into getting a food hard- on and getting food-horny and blowing all of their heroic dieting efforts to hell


Yep, that about explains it.  I recently discovered a website called StumbleUpon and it introduced me to the most epic collection of food porn I have ever seen- Food Gawker.  Food Gawker immediately became my new favorite website.  Pages upon pages upon pages of pictures of delicious looking food.  And if you click the pictures, nine times out of ten it takes you to a recipe.  This is the best website I've ever seen!  I spend hours clicking around and salivating and coming up with recipes I want to try, most of which are desserts.  


But it's a double edged sword, that Food Gawker.  The clearly visible frustration from my husband when he glances over at me from the love seat and says incredulously, "You're still looking at food?!"  "But Josh, it looks so good!  Look, it's a cupcake stuffed strawberry!  It's homemade Nutella pop-tarts!  It's a patriotic, alcoholic Jell-O mold!  Why would I not still be looking?!"  He sighs and returns to whatever sport he was watching on TV, and I continue to surf through the pages, clicking on the things that interest me and wondering to myself if I'm good enough to actually make them- until the baby starts crying.  No worries, I change her diaper, stick her on the boob, and continue my journey through food porn addict heaven.


Now I'm not sure if there's a cure for my addiction.  I'm also not sure if it's an addiction that needs to be cured.  But I do know this-  I'm making a fudge truffle cheesecake this weekend, and it's going to be delicious.  And my wonderful husband has decided he might just get me a Kitchenaid stand mixer for our anniversary in August instead of making me wait until it's my combination birthday and Christmas present.  Maybe he's an enabler, but I'm fine with that.  I like my addiction, and he likes trying what I bake.  Win win.  And the fact that he can take what I bake to work to share so it doesn't tempt me from the kitchen counter when I'm SO CLOSE to being back down to prepregnancy weight (thanks for that 45 pounds, Clementine.....and Ben.  And Jerry.) makes it a win win win.  Charlie Sheen would be proud.

My first ever blog post!

I guess I'm blogging now.  I created this page a few days ago and then I just kind of sat on it.  What should I write about?  And better yet, who'd actually want to read about it?  But alas, here I sit, typing for readers that probably won't even read this because I'm probably not that interesting.  Anyway, I should probably briefly introduce the two main people who will show up regularly in my blog- Josh and Clementine.  Josh is my husband.  He's in the Army and he's super awesome.  He was the one who gave me the title of Household 6 way before I started taking care of business the way I do now.  I guess he had high hopes for me, and I really hope I'm living up to them.  Together we have a super gorgeous daughter, the aforementioned Clementine.  She's almost 5 months old and being her mother is by far the most amazing job I've ever had.  I know a lot of people say they have really good babies, but most of them are probably lying.  I actually do have a really good baby.  She's so smiley and happy.  In pictures-

And I guess I should show you who I am, too:

(I swear I'm not 15.  No matter how young I look, I can actually legally buy alcohol.)
And this is my favorite picture from her newborn shoot:

She is.....words cannot adequately describe just how incredibly perfect. 

We also have 2 chihuahuas that complete our family.  They used to be great.  Now they're jealous of the baby and they're more obnoxious than anything.  Oh well, I guess you can't have it all.

Anyway, enough of that.  I decided to start my blog tonight after I made dinner.  I should probably put it out there that unless it's dessert, I don't eat half of what I cook.  My husband on the other hand will eat anything.  This isn't a big deal.  It works in our household.  I make him what he wants, and I eat a Lean Cuisine.  Or cookies.  Whatever.  Tonight he wanted chicken tacos.  Well, we didn't have much of what the recipe (okay, it was the one on the box of the taco kit) called for (am I the only person who doesn't keep squash and black beans just sitting around my house?), but I wanted to do more than just chicken and sauce in a taco shell.  So I started scouring the fridge and pantry to come up with some way to make the tacos special.  Upon opening the taco box, I realized the taco shells were all broken.  I ended up breaking them all onto a cookie sheet.  I coated chicken breasts in olive oil, salt, pepper, and taco seasoning and threw them on the George Foreman until they were done.  I dumped the Rotel and corn I found in the pantry into a frying pan, mixed with taco sauce and the chicken breasts I had just sliced up and heated them all together.  I scooped it all over the broken taco shells, covered it with cheese, and stuck it in the oven at 500 until the cheese melted.  When it came out I covered it in lettuce, sour cream, taco sauce, and hot sauce.  And according to my husband it was REALLY good.  To me, it looked really gross:

This definitely is not the best looking or best tasting or even most interesting food I'll ever blog.  You probably have zero interest in trying to recreate this.  That's not the point of this entry.  In future entries there way more interesting, pretty, yummy things that will make you say "OMG I NEED THAT."  But not this one.  This one is because I realized this is what makes me feel so much like a wife.  Throwing out the recipes (I swear, this only happens once in a blue moon) and throwing stuff together myself.  Not knowing how things will turn out and having Josh rave over them.  I can't explain it.  It sounds weird.  I know it does.  But it's true.  I feel like I'm fulfilling my wifely duties even more so than when I plan out a meal and buy everything I need directly from a list.  It's a really nice feeling.  I guess it's a feeling worth dedicating an entire blog entry to.  I was going to write about some other stuff, too, but instead I'm going to go eat some fried ravioli because it's late, and well, I'm a foodie.