Huh. look at that. Fran's started a blog.

Grief can do wierd things to a person. I can't define it. Everybody says, "you've been going through so much lately," "we'll get through this together," "I know what you're going through..." Am I really in a state of grief? Do I even have the right to grieve? It's something I don't understand.

Maybe it's just a matter of feelings during a day. Getting out of yourself. Going to help somebody, try new things, keep living life. And then there's the twinge of guilt for letting life keep on going. But when does it end? Wouldn't it be nice if the grief fairy came over to let you know you're out of "time out?" After the first volley of not wanting to get up for two weeks, I realized Mike and I had to eat. So I dragged myself back into the kitchen.

And I made eclairs. Apparently a challenge is good. Since then I've mastered fried chicken, and I've even made an edible batch of biscuits.

I was in a local housewares shop this morning, and I had two ladies older than my mom ask me stuff that seemed second nature to me. Like, will this food processor chop nuts (no, that one will make nut paste. You want the nut chopper from Williams-Sonoma.) and will this pan work with egg-dipped fish (yes, as long as you use a silicone spatula that's heat resisitant up to 500 degrees or a nylon one that's heat resisitant up to 400. Don't use cooking spray, don't use a steel scrubber, only use olive oil sparingly.) Wonder if that means I have a knack?

Also, having inherited my grandmother's inability to follow a recipe, I'm always making stuff I'd like to try again, but completely omitting the "write it down" part. So since I type faster than I write, I figured this would be a good place to make notes.

My great-grandmother Leila was widowed at my age: 28. She had two children and one on the way. Having received a college education, she knew she had to provide the same to her two boys and a girl (my grandmother). With everyone around her telling her she was a fool, Leila sold the family home in Lineville, Alabama, and bought three houses on Tumor Street in Auburn. At the time, the college there was called the Alabama Polytechnical Institute. Leila rented out two of the houses, lived in one, and ran a boarding house in that one in which she fed 2 shifts of 75 boys breakfast, lunch, and dinner 7 days a week. I have the bell that she used to call them up from the basement where they would wait and the box she used for recipes. My grandparents met there: my grandfather worked for Leila while he put himself through veterinary school. My grandmother and two great uncles went on to achieve multiple degrees at Auburn. My grandmother was a home ec major, while Forest and Robert were both engineers, like their dad was. I don't think it's coincidence that I married an engineer myself.

So here I go. Don't tell Mike. He thinks blogs are by people who are full of themselves. I think I'll just use this one as a cooking journal and maybe a little bit of therapy.

Never trust a skinny cook.