To everyone’s surprise, I’m back (in a timely fashion, too!). I think my first post was a little too advantageous. I spoke proudly about my new baking and cooking abilities, essentially illustrating myself as a revamped Guy Fieri. (Who am I kidding, I could never rock frosted tips. Also, does that comparison even work? I’ve never seen that guy cook before.) To tell my story we need to travel back to last week. My boyfriend said that his coworker has pierogies in his biweekly meal rotation and he suggested that we try adding them in for our next grocery haul. Being a snob, I remarked, “Wow, [name redacted] makes pierogies?” My boyfriend replied that his coworker makes them frozen, not fresh. 

I was then taken back to a teenage memory at Ali Cronin’s house (name not redacted or changed because the Cronin family knew how to make some great pierogies and they deserve a shoutout) when I conveniently showed up at the tail end of the pierogi assembly line. I’m certain my job was to plop the suckers into the boiling water, not the cutting, peeling, mashing, rolling, or stuffing part of the endeavor. The Cronin’s pierogies were beautiful and I’m sure I ate more than I actually deserved. So, when my boyfriend suggested that we buy frozen pierogies, I scoffed and proceeded to tell him that we could make them and freeze them for later! 

Fast forward to tonight. The clock hits five, I pull up the recipe that I scouted in advance (soft brag), and begin to cook. Sure, the recipe said it would take two hours to complete, but that had to be an exaggeration, right? Let’s cut to the chase, you know where I’m headed here. With sore feet, I prepared and cooked pierogies. My dough was crap (I’m not taking the blame, the water quantity was off!), my rolling surface was too small, and I forgot to buy enough cheese (will take the blame for this one). When my boyfriend came home an hour and a half later, I was in a bad mood and could already tell that the dish was not going to be great. I crafted about 15 pierogies and threw the rest of the dough in the trash. At least the potato mixture could be saved. 

I sulked and slinked into the bedroom with my pathetic pierogies alone. My boyfriend poked his head in and asked how they tasted. I told him the truth that I didn’t want to admit: they tasted like the wooden cutting board I used to roll the dough out on. Because he’s a nice guy, and not stupid, he ate them, but only after he pan fried his portion in butter and garlic. He proceeded to tell me that they tasted “great.” Whatever. I told myself that I need to take a sharp turn this year and focus now on self preservation via quick frozen pizzas. But…I thought of this blog. I thought about how I openly told the internet that I am trending towards something (insert some cool buzz word here later). It is January 7th. Could I possibly give up this early? With no fight? I guess not. Thanks for holding me digitally accountable, guys.  

I’m a firm believer that it isn’t the major setbacks that life hits you with that will bring you down. Instead, it is the micro setbacks. It’s like the song Ironic by Alanis Morissette. This verse is coming to my mind right now (although, I would argue the last line might be considered a major life setback):

A traffic jam when you’re already late

A “No Smoking” sign on your cigarette break

It’s like ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife

It’s meeting the man of my dreams

And then meeting his beautiful wife

Sure, at the end of the day, it’s just pierogies. I can remake them and try again (I will never make them again), but it is also the feeling that sometimes things just never work out how you want them to because you aren’t skilled or talented enough. And feeling that way over and over and over prevents you from continuing to try again with confidence. If you haven’t picked up on it yet, the pierogies are a metaphor for how I feel about life sometimes. I feel that sometimes when you start doing well, something comes around to humble you. Historically, I have taken these humbling moments as my cue to give up, conveniently using them as an excuse to stay in my path of regression. How do I get better from here? Well, step number one is to trust recipe times, and step number two is prevent myself from using something small (or many small things) to define the outcome of my future. 

So, I’ll see you next time, hopefully, with a successful story of a new adventure.