It’s not anyone’s fault but my own, but since getting married nine months ago I’ve created some sort of perfect wife criteria that I’m a slave to. The standard to which I now compare myself goes a little something like this: 5’7″, tan, 100 lbs, constantly working out, amazing cook, incredible decorator, frequent entertainer, immaculate housekeeper, who never gets angry, and is a GODDESS in the sack. Kind of like this:

But my harsh reality is this: a girl who is 5’5.5″, not-so-tan, wayyyyyy more than 100 lbs, a horrible cook, much too busy (or lazy?) to clean, who gets frustrated and agitated and whiny and pissy and hormonal on a weekly basis.

I’m trying lots of different things in my ongoing quest to attain my unattainable standard of kick-ass-wifedom. Firstly, I’ve reached out to a few friends to try and learn how to cook. As delicious as my staples are (i.e. Kraft macaroni and cheese, instant rice with butter and salt, and canned soup) one can only subject one’s husband to them so many times in a healthy marriage.

Sunday night Dan and I went over to our friend Randy’s house and he and I tag-teamed a delicious oil-based pasta with chicken, bell peppers, onions, asparagus, sundried tomatoes, roma tomatoes, and feta cheese. I wish I would have taken a picture for you. But just use your imagination. We boiled the pasta in half water half vegetable broth with a sprinkle of thyme, which is something I’ve never even considered when boiling pasta. The best I’ve done before is add oil and salt. Bleh. The boiling concoction gave the noodles so much flavor that I could have just eaten them by themselves and been satisfied. We stir-fried the veggies (while we baked the chicken with onions) with oil, minced garlic (I MINCED GARLIC!) and cooking sherry for 25ish minutes, and added in the chicken when it was done baking.

Then we threw it all together in a big pot with the pasta, added the roma tomatoes and the feta on top, and ate and ate and ate.

DANG IT WAS GOOD.

Randy and I will continue our cooking classes. Next up? Salmon. Stay tuned.

Tonight, ALL BY MYSELF, I am taking a shot at marinated chicken. I took two frozen chicken breasts, put them in tin foil and doused them with zesty italian dressing. I folded the foil all up into tight little chickenfoilpouches and put them in the fridge to thaw. Tonight, I will bake the chicken, and I’ll let you know how that goes. My friend Kathleen (who happens to be an amazing cook and one of those women who I feel effortlessly blows the almighty kick-ass-wife away) and I are going to tackle some recipes as well. I’m excited, but also very scared. This experiment is going to be like watching a newborn baby learn how to tie its mother’s shoes. Not impossible, but HIGHLY improbable.

For those of you who were concerned, I don’t plan on blogging about my quest to become a goddess in the sack. Just FYI.