A Tribute: Her Cooking

Now, before anyone gets all upset about me painting her into an apron and pearls, I just want to make it clear that I don't think my wife has ever worn pearls. I should buy her some pearls.

Anywho, my wife is not a great cook. She's a fantastic cook. And the best part is she didn't think she was a very good cook when we got married. Something about a lack of experience. She was mainly a mac and cheese maker. And she could and can make some mean mac and cheese. But the funny part was she made something else (I think it was pasta in alfredo sauce with meat balls), and it was AWESOME (in a high pitch voice).

So I had pasta with meatballs for about a month. Maybe because I praised it so much, but it was really good ya'll! So I had to prompt her into trying something new. And everything she made was great. It was like a Midas touch type situation. Homemade soft pretzels, three different kinds of beef stew (not from a can), Mexican dishes, Italian dishes, I can't even remember them they were so long ago.

I would have to say her masterpiece is her meatloaf. Yeah, I know how cheesy that sounds, but really she puts no cheese in it whatsoever. Seriously, nobody has tasted her meatloaf and not instantly fallen in love with her. Not that I blame them, but I got to her first. So tough.

A Tribute: Her Needle

Notice I didn't say needling. Today I would like to discuss all things fabric related. Even that isn't a broad enough introduction to encompass all the things she's capable of with a needle. What's even more amazing is how frequently she taught herself to do these things, or at best had a handful of pointers and then took off with it.

When we first met, she was heavy into needlepoint. For the life of me I can't figure out how she had the dedication and attention to detail necessary to to go thread by thread, counting the number of minuscule holes over from the edge to start a particular color, only to have to repeat the process for the next color. It bottles the mind.

Little did I know she was quickly learning the art of quilting. I discovered her new found talent when she presented me with my very own handmade navy quilt, complete with the navy emblem. After marriage, I quickly learned that quilting isn't nearly as easy as it looks. I was raised around seamstresses and simply assumed the hodge-podge creations I saw them produce were a simple matter of taking a piece of fabric, sowing on another one, then sowing on another one, until you had a big enough square, then sow up the edges. Easy enough, right? Au contraire.

She frequently belittles her own math skills while praising mine, but I have difficulty tracking the multitude of measurements she had to coordinate to get everything to fit just so. And trust me, if it doesn't fit, she spots it immediately. Then it's ripping everything back to square one. I wouldn't have the patience for it. But not only has she gone from novice to someone the church calls on to teach classes in the span of a couple of years, the things she creates are astounding. I just wish she'd make a few for around the house and quit giving them all away. Yeah, the women's shelter needs them more, but they're just so darn nice to look at.

She's dabbled in knitting, and made this beautiful blanket that's wrapped around our beautiful daughter (that she also made, more on that later). She also threw together a precious collection of cupcake hats and candy corn hats for the little one, but there isn't much call for the warmth of knitted clothing in our southern climate. Of course she taught herself how to make all these things. "Yeah! Self-taught! No lessons, thank you very much, Pop." - Steve Buscemi

Something more apropos to our climate are the clothes she makes for the baby now. It would be one thing if she just took a pattern, followed it to the letter, and out came some clothes. Still impressive, cuz I can't do it, but not really earth-shattering. So of course she doesn't just do that. Numerous times she's taken a pattern and said, "You know what, this would look better with sleeves." Or, "That doesn't really fit our daughter's frame, so I'm going to change up the design to make it a better fit."

It's the difference between skill and talent. To me, a skill is something you learn through instruction and practice, until you can do it independent of direction. A talent is the ability to take that skill and through a process inherent to you improve on that skill. So far I have yet to see her attempt anything involving needle, thread, yarn or fabric that didn't turn out beautifully. Not to say she hasn't had the occasional project that didn't work out just the way she wanted, but by and large she's been a success at every type of needlework she's tried. It just makes me wonder what other potential she has in her.

A Tribute: Her Photography

My wife's birthday is this week, and I don't really talk about her much on here, so I thought I would dedicate a week's worth of blog posts to her. What makes her her, what makes her my wife, that sort of thing. Now while we have an understanding that we don't talk about each other on our blogs without content approval, I think she'll forgive me this one time. Unless she doesn't.

Today I'd like to talk about my wife's favorite diversion. My wife is a photographer. I know, I know, a Mormon SAHM who's also into photography? What're the odds? But she's different (echoes every husband defending his wife's passion). Hmm, how to distinguish my wife from the pack...She's won accolades? She's been featured on blogs, in art shows- the list goes on and on.

That's what makes her different from the hobby photographers. But what makes her better? The simple answer is heart. Not necessarily her own, but what she captures. Sure, she can take the standard picture, with everybody turned toward the camera, big fake smiles on their faces. But her true talent comes out in her photos of people being people. There's a truth to her photography, a window into something deeper than what is seen with the eyes.

Is that sufficiently cheesy and cliché? Let me break it down. The truth I mentioned is not the physical properties of the subject, but those things you can interpret from their appearance, mannerisms, facial expressions, etc. You may see a child playing, but if they have a mischievous grin, you get more out of that photo than just a child playing. An oversimplification, but it helps show what I mean.

This is what she creates with her camera. I am in awe of her. I can set up shots of pretty scenery, or ironic angles that you might not think of, but her talent runs deeper. It's one of the many things about her that amaze me.

Avatar: The Last Airbender

Am I the only one who got confused when the previews for the movies "Avatar" and "The Last Airbender" started coming out last year? It took me a good 3 months to figure out that they were actually separate movies. It didn't help anything that they are both colorful, imaginitive fantasy lands full of creatures that would make the Labyrinth jealous.

So I finally got around to seeing "Avatar". I know, only 6 months after everyone else this time, I'm getting better! What was the fuss about this movie? I mean sure, it was pretty. But so is a painting in a museum, and I ain't payin' no 9 bucks to see that either. Luckily I only had to pay 1 buck to redbox.

Maybe it's elitist of me, but I spent a long time thinking that redbox was "Netflix: The Trailer Trash Edition". Okay, that's not really a maybe. It's very elitist of me. Their case wasn't helped by the sort of people I saw congregating around their numerous orifices as I made a late night McDonald's run. I certainly get now why there seemed to be more activity just as I was getting out of school arond 8:50 every night.

But I'm a convert. Redbox is definitely for me. Now does that elevate them, or denigrate me? Either way, I'm here to talk about Avatar. As previously asked, what was the big deal? I'm no movie expert, but I predicted 90% of this movie about 20 minutes in. Pretty much everything about Sigorney Weaver's character was bad. And that stinks, cuz I like her. But her scientist routine was cliché, except when it needed to be more visible (like when she found out the marine guy was going behind her back) and who didn't see one of those two dying? Oh, oops, I forgot to say spoiler alert. Somebody dies. I mean, every aspect of that movie was telegraphed. There's only been five guys ever to ride this one kind of flying dinosaur, so guess what the main character is going to do.

And what was with the heavy-handed native american influence? I mean, smacking him as he walked into camp? Been done people. Check out The Last Mohicans, or Dances With Wolves, or any of a dozen other Indian movies. I mean, they whooped and hollered like them, they communed with nature kinda like them, they used bows, arrows, horses (i know we gave them horses, no history lessons please), and used stealth just the same. Is it really so hard to invent a society that you have to just photocopy the nearest indigenous population being pushed out by marauding white people (how many people of color did you count? I counted 3. Not counting the aliens)? Not to say this is a racist film, but that didn't help anything either.

I probably should have researched this topic, because I have no doubt that a million other blogs have said all of the things I just said, but this was my take on it, without any outside influence. I'm glad I saw it, but once was enough. Oh, and it reminded me of a blue version of that movie Fern Gully with Robin Williams. It even had the big bad construction machine that the natives tried to wreck, and a huge tree that they all lived in. Awfully coincidental, wouldn't you say? Oh, you already did say? Well, whatever.