I saw Ree Drummond at Changing Hands last night. She spoke a bit about her new cookbook. Beforehand, over drinks with girlfriends and the cookbook, we talked about the incorporation of family (especially children) into such projects. Is it okay to put your kid’s photos online? We agreed that in this format, it was fine. She and her husband must agree and the truth is, the cookbook isn’t just recipes. It is a gorgeous view of their family and their way of life. She has so much to be proud of.
As I watched the masses swarm to hear Ree speak — truly more folks came to hear her than Jimmy Carter or Madeleine Albright’s recent visits — it dawned on me one of the reasons she and Dooce are so incredibly well received in the blog world is because they are willing to be so vulnerable. They talk about the details of their personal lives and while I’m sure they don’t reveal all, they are comfortable taking us into their homes for a glimpse.
I’m not entirely sure where my comfort level sits on my personal life and the blog; there are times I’ve revealed enough to get a phone call from my angry little brother in Colorado (who magically must have just happened to read my “stupid blog he never reads” that day) to say, “Too much! Stop talking!” There are other times I’ve handled crises and changes without mentioning a word because I just didn’t know how to broach the topic.
I love what this blog has provided me. More than anything, it is a daily challenge to be creative, positive and proactive in my writing. It pushes me to carry my camera nearly everywhere and to document my life in a way that previous generations would have certainly deemed vain. C’est la vie. Life changes and my skin is a bit thicker than it used to be. I can hear my friend Mini’s voice saying, “Dear, you can’t please everyone” each time I open an email or receive a comment bemoaning my views.
The title to this entry is a bit tongue in cheek. A man I had been spending time with of late recently told me I was “too domestic.” He hurled this at me in a moment of anger, one in which I wish more than anything I’d had the chance to remind him that without such an interest, he wouldn’t have eaten about a dozen requested chocolate cakes. Alas, I sat there slack jawed thinking, “Too domestic? That’s a new one.” It stung for about two seconds until I remembered I’m much better off being exactly who I am — a woman who loves to play house as much at 30 as I did at 5.
And yes, I’d say domestic is an apt description. When I went to download photos for this entry, flowers, a future quilt and three dozen cookies I baked yesterday came up as options. While I dislike being pigeonholed into such specific descriptions, people will think what they want. (And those people will not get cookies. Or cake.)