'They' say that Proverbs 31 is the Biblical ruler that women are to be measured by. I read it with a grain of salt, knowing that I, no matter how hard I try (and I have tried hard to the point of crazy), I will never come close to what Proverbs 31 wants me to be.
Many moons ago, when I didn't know any better, I spent a lot of time struggling to be perfect.
All was not right with my world until ....
... My house was cleaned from top to bottom once a week
... Dishes washed before being put in the dishwasher
... Home cooked meals were only complete with a protein, a starch and a vegetable
The only thing that struggle got me was a frustrated crazy person who didn't enjoy or participate fully in get-togethers with friends and family because I was too busy trying to make everything perfect.
It took many years of craziness before it dawned on me to lighten up on myself.
Thanks to a young lady (who shall remain nameless), who is horrifically late to most everything, I learned that snacks before a big celebration dinner aren't necessary. What I do now is artfully place pretzels, chips and salsa and fresh fruit and vegetables out for snacks. No more fancy stuff. Bonus points are involved because the fruit and veggies can be served with dinner.
And, once upon a time, everything had to be made from scratch. Sometimes, things from scratch just don't turn out. Way back when if something didn't turn out, that would be cause for a major Dorothy melt down. I can remember one time attempting to make the ideal layer cake. Banana, to be precise. The layer cake wasn't turning out in the perfect way that I needed it to be. I did the only thing I could do.
I smashed it with my fist.
Now, when I make a cake, its in a 13" x 9" pan.
I no longer worry about whether anything turns out 'right' or not. 'Right' is over rated. Just who is the 'they' that claim that something has to look like the picture in the cookbook? I figure how bad can anything turn out if all the ingredients are tasty to begin with?
I have also discovered that sometimes, salad just needs to be poured out of a sack.
I have learned the fine art of using disposable plates. Who cares? In my opinion, after more years than I care to count of doing dishes by hand, loading and unloading the dishwasher (which I loathe), I welcome a meal on styrofoam plates.
Yes, styrofoam. Randy doesn't like the feel of paper plates. His one and only idiosyncrasy.
It was a long time coming, but I have come to the conclusion that the chances are slim to none that a person will starve while being at my house. And, on the off chance that one does go away hungry, there is always a Sonic somewhere along their route home.
Am I perfect at this quest for non-perfection? Hardly.
Now this Not Quite Proverbs 31, somewhere between Mary and Martha, Daughter of Christ needs to deal with her dog who has rolled in something wet, dead and smelly.
Have the BEST day ever!