The Good Life

My husband aspires to be Ina Garten’s husband, Jeffrey.

Jeffrey has a good life. A very good life, indeed.

First of all, Ina (of Barefoot Contessa Fame)  is always content. She’s not pre-menstrual, or menstrual or menopausal.  She’s never moody, nasty or mean. She understands that Jeffrey needs Jeffrey time. She cooks amazing meals and since she never makes a mess, Jeffrey never has to clean up.

She’s smiles. She doesn’t worry about who to invite or what to make. She knows all of the perfect entertaining combinations.

After she makes sure Jeffery has a newspaper and an aperitif, she sets about chopping, grating, dusting, sautéing, frying, beating, and whisking.  She never asks for help.

Jeffrey sits on their porch.

She makes his favourite foods and sets the table.

Jeffrey sits on the porch.

When she entertains, she doesn’t shove the household mess into a bedroom and slide a dresser up against the door so that no one can get in. She doesn’t run around spewing out orders minutes before guests arrive looking like a crazy woman in a bra and underwear.

Mind you, if Ina asked Jeffrey to BBQ the ribs, chances are he wouldn’t burn them. He would take that one responsibility seriously and cook the ribs to perfection. He wouldn’t be telling jokes and drinking Jack Daniels with the neighbours while the ribs were going up in flames. He wouldn’t be oblivious to his wife running around getting the salads ready, setting the table, and refilling glasses.

But if I were Ina, I would have to wear the same shirt everyday (okay maybe she has a few different colours of the same shirt) and I wouldn’t be able to drink wine while I cook. The neighbours would have nothing to tell stories about. That would be a drag.