It used to annoy me that every time I took a personality quiz or had my palm read, I came out as a caregiver. Now, to me, that wasn’t the glamorous, amazing personality that I wanted to portray to the world. But what’s a girl to do? When I went to a sci/fi-fantasy convention and had a photo of my aura taken, and it came out with a huge streak of white around my head, and blue and green around my upper body, I knew I was doomed to be a nurturer.
I can’t really argue with any of the test results. I mean, after all, I’m the one who wanted to be an elementary school teacher. I’m the one who loves having kids clutter my house. I even have a tree full of birdfeeders, a shelf on my Chinese elm to feed the flying squirrels that come at night, and I feed stray cats that won’t even let me touch them. What can I say? The quizzes might be right. The thing is, I really enjoy feeding things, especially people.
There’s something about food. There’s the creative process of making it, and there’s the nurturing process of sharing it. I’d be a FoodTV addict if they didn’t have so darned many reruns. I can’t stand watching the same show twice. But I love cooking for people, and I love finding and trying out new recipes.
When the neighborhood kids were growing up and stayed at our house for supper, I used to tease them that if they were nice to me, I’d give them my recipes when they grew up and moved away. It’s no joke anymore. They call for them when they’re ready to make one of their favorites. It’s a huge compliment. A friend even asked me to help her organize some kind of cooking routine, so I made her a printout of easy recipes–7 chicken recipes to choose from for Mondays, pork recipes for Tuesdays, ethnic on Wednesdays, etc. She still uses it, and I’ve e-mailed it to many more people.
The thing is, I’ve always said that if someone carves “She was a nice person” on my tombstone, I’ll rise from the grave and haunt them. I don’t mind being nice, but I don’t want to be known for it. I want to be known for my writing, or my wit, or my humor. Something other than a blue and green aura. I felt better when I took Mike Well’s quiz on Twitter for “which famous female author are you most like,” and I tested out as Agatha Christie. Equally adept at ferreting out dirt as serving cocktails and entrees.