The Pioneer Woman Cooks was one of the first blogs I ever read. I have no idea how I stumbled onto it, but likely a Google recipe search of some kind. I do a lot of those. Anyway, I don’t actually cook a lot of her recipes. I don’t work on a ranch burning 10,000 calories an hour, and I lack the confidence that I won’t double my body weight by eating them. And since I have made a couple of her recipes (including this one), I know I would eat them. Because one of the cool things about Pioneer Woman is that sister doesn’t skimp. Butter? Hell yeah. Heavy cream? You bet your ass. Literally.
Of course, I can now tell you that either PW, as she is affectionately known by her THOUSANDS of semi-to-fully obsessed fans, doesn’t eat her recipes either. Or she eats them, but only a couple of bites. Or she eats them, but works out like a fiend. Because sister is also thin. And yes she has a number of children to chase and care for, but I know a lot of women with quite a few children, and they all tell me that mothering doesn’t burn nearly the amount of calories that one would consider fair and reasonable.
I observed PW’s thinness (she was, more importantly, also very enthusiastic and sweet, just as seems seems blogwise) last night at her book signing. I went with my pal Angie, to whom I had recommended the PW blog many months back and who, as a result, became One of the Obsessed. As we were preparing to take Angie’s turn at the signing table (Me, there for moral support and photography), Angie made me put my hand over her heart. Do you feel that? It’s POUNDING. She was like a pre-teen outside Justin Bieber’s dressing room. And since she’d spent the hours leading up to the book signing recounting the inappropriately loud and nonsensical ravings she’d accidentally unleashed on previous celebrity types, I was pretty excited, too. I was prepared for quite a show.
And let me tell you, Angie was such a disappointment. She was enthusiastic, yes. And perhaps a smidge louder than her normal volume (I think … but sound is still greatly numbed by all the flotsam in my poor sick head). But other than that, Angie was dismally, sadly … normal. PW loved her, of course, especially after Ang gave her three pairs of beautiful earrings, her own creations, which we know PW loves, since Ang also SENT her a pair a while back and PW wore them, as evidenced by a post on her blog. (See, there IS a little stalking behavior here, but it’s minor enough to diminish its entertainment value. And really, isn’t that what blogging’s all about anyway?)
So, congratulations, Ang. PW loves you and your earrings, and we’re just going to have to find another outing in which you can delight me with your supposed skills at frightening notable public figures. I’ll be looking forward to it, and perhaps, by then, I’ll even be able to hear.