When I was a child, somebody put a big, blue plastic camera in my grubby hands. I got older and the cameras got fancier and I “studied” photography in high school then college and I took a LOT of photos. So now I’m going to post my photos in no particular order with stories that may or may not have something to do with what’s in them – my new experiment in creative confidence.
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In my junior year of college, my parents told me they would pay for a spring break trip to Florida OR my yearly sorority beach week…but not both.
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So I remained in Charlottesville for the week of spring break.
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My boyfriend at the time had graduated and was working in town. But he had his 9-5ish so other than our standing 45 minute lunch dates downtown I had the days to myself.
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My roommates, friends, and backup drinking pals had all fled for warmer climates.
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And there’s only so much to do in a tiny rental without cable television.
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I decided to play the doting housewife and prepare an elaborate meal every night (complete with contraband alcohol bought by my over 21 boyfriend). We had country western night with slow cooked BBQ and beer…some kind of seafood paired with cheap white wine…and I can’t really remember the other meals.
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But I remember how it felt to cook for the better part of every afternoon.
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I come from a family of cooks.
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My grandmothers were very different and very similar – one a Jewish mother of five and the other a Creole mother of seven. They both spent a lot of time in the kitchen.
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But I never spent time in there with them.
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I remember my dad calling me over whenever he made gumbo or jambalaya, saying “Here Liz, watch how I do this.” Sometimes I pried myself away from the television and sometimes I didn’t.
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I wasn’t interested.
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Until I spent a week alone at college doing nothing but cooking.
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Now I wish I could go back. A little time has made me see how important cooking with my family should have been to me.
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Now I’ll invite a group over for Sunday dinners or run the show at my family’s Thanksgiving.
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The more elaborate, the better.
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Things always come out at different times, the main course is often ready before the appetizer, and sometimes I forget about the salad until halfway through.
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But it’s usually delicious.
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📷 This photo is from the day I tricked Kate into baking me cookies by telling her it was for the sake of art.