.canoe americana?

An envelope came in the mail about six months ago containing a handwritten note and an article from a magazine. It was an assignment, a writing assignment, something I haven't had in over 6 years: Come up with ten things I’ve learned from being a cook, or cooker, as Wyatt would call me (a good cooker, to be exact). Here’s the first installment of what I’m calling:

10 Lessons from the Kitchen

1. Enjoy the simple things
Tom likes to tell the story about coming home from work one day to find his small son playing with the cheese grater. I'm convinced he finds this funnier than everyone else does, but the truth is, I love my kitchen and all the things I get to play with while I cook. I used to keep the metal, tent-like cheese grater in the bottom pull-out cupboard. At the time this was right at Wyatt's eye level and he would open the doors and pull out the pots and pans and lids. And the grater. Looking back on it, I realize this was not the safest thing in the kitchen for him to play with. It also wasn't the most dangerous. And he never got hurt walking around with it. In fact, I've gotten more hurt grating parmesan cheese with it than Wyatt ever did carrying it around. The cheese grater is actually one of my prized tools in the kitchen. I tend to overdo it on the cheese because, honestly, cheese makes everything better.

Just like the grater, and the cheese that goes into meals, it’s sometimes the uncomplicated things in life that are easiest to enjoy. The kids love playing in the bathtub with old plastic bottles and bubbles. A plain bagel with cream cheese brings me so much satisfaction I could eat one every day. Saying “I love you” to Tom at random times makes him stop and smile so big you’d think I gave him $100.

When I go to Target or some large store that seems to have everything under the sun, I can wander the aisles all day, or at least as long as the kids will let me. Ooh, a bread machine. Cute dresses for spring. And look at all that food. When we get to the toy section the kids get goo-goo eyes and dream about how great their lives would be if only they could have these things. “Maybe I can get that” Wyatt says over and over. And “Baby!” Cassie cries as we go down the pink aisle. I refrain from buying these things for several reasons, but I’m reminded of the most important one when I get home. They love their toys, things they play with every day and things they’ve forgotten they even have. With the sun shining even more these days they spend hours outside, playing in the dirt, riding bikes, shoveling sand around with their buckets and scoops. They forget the toy aisle and all its grandeur and I head to the kitchen and pull out my cheese grater to start dinner.