Farm girls fit the following:

• Aren't afraid of snakes.
• Can walk on gravel in bare feet.
• Understand what it means when someone says 'Your barley is starting to top out.'
• Don't shriek when a bird flies up right in front of them.
• Change into the left lane to turn into the drive.
• Know the names of different types of tractors.
• Make lists before they go into town.
• Don't forget their lists when they go into town.
• Buy everything in town in one trip.

City girls fit the following:

• Are afraid of snakes.  And run like crazy women when someone chases them with one.
• Can't walk on gravel in bare feet.  Tries it and whine the entire time.
• Have no clue what it means when someone says 'Your barley is starting to top out.' Don't really even know what barley looks like.
• Shrieks and nearly wets self when bird flies up right in front of them.
• Calls tractors 'tractors'.  Knows that the green ones are John Deere.  Right?
• Makes incomplete list before going into town.
• Forgets incomplete list when leaving for town.
• Buys only part of items on incomplete list in town.

Can you guess which profile I fit?  However, learning to live in the country is far better than living in town any day.

Country life is awesome because:

• There's no sounds.  Except farm trucks and birds and crickets and frogs.
• The air smells good.
• I have a yard.
• I have a view.
• The nearest neighbors are a mile away. 
  
• No one can see into my windows just by looking out theirs.
• Its dark at night.
• We have a pond.
• And a creek.
• And a river.
• And trees.
• I can say 'I'm going into town.'  It just sounds cooler than 'I'm running to Albertson's'

I love my new life.  Now, if I can just find a job...

I cook.  Its my thing.  My signature is Miracle Pasta.  This dish was dubbed as such by Erin, who had it and deemed it miraculous.  I'm not one for confrontation, and I rather enjoy being miraculous.  Especially if its through my food.

Miracle Pasta was actually an accident.  I had chicken, and I had penne pasta, but no alfredo sauce, and no way to make the real stuff.  So, I sauteed the chicken in butter and thought, okay, how would one proceed to make a sauce from this?  I tossed in some garlic and onion seasoning, because a) I didn't have the real thing and b) I hate onions.  I basically coated the chicken in it because hey, its a sauce, and there's gonna be a lot more ingredients that need the flavor.  Well, the next logical step was lemon juice because real alfredo is made with white wine and I didn't have any and still needed that acidity and flavor.  But alfredo is a cream sauce and I didn't have any cream.  I did have milk, though, and splashed some in there.  Now, what would you combine with milk to make it creamy?  Sour cream, of course, so I added a couple of dollops.  Then, I salted and peppered it...with a little salt and a LOT of pepper...and added grated parmesan cheese to thicken it further and because grated parmesan is pretty much amazing.  I used this to top my pasta and nearly died from culinary joy, as have many who have had it since.  Thus, the Miracle Pasta name.

I surpassed Miracle Pasta tonight.  I have reached culinary Mecca, so I call it Mecca Chicken.  Culinary accidents seem to be my specialty, because tonight, I didn't have any pasta for Miracle Pasta and I had chicken I needed to use.  I sliced it so it'd cook faster, and was about to cook it, except I realized that I wanted to marinate it.  Well, the first logical step is lemon juice because lemon juice and chicken...its like...peas and carrots...or peanut butter and jelly...or...well, you get the idea.  Next, I threw in some minced garlic for kicks.  Plus, if you don't cook with garlic can you even call yourself a cook?  Then, I started looking through my spice cupboard.  I grabbed some basil...you know...lemon...basil...peas...carrots...peanut butter...jelly...and some thyme, just because I loooove thyme like wow.  And, what the hey, some dill.  Of course, you're gonna need salt in there, and olive oil.  I put all this in a bag, and put the chicken in there.  Then, I tenderized it.  With a can of spaghetti sauce (which I'll never use but for tenderizing because I make my own that rocks a million times more).  Yep, that's how cool I am, no rolling pin or mallet, just a can of spaghetti sauce.  I let that sit for thirty minutes and threw it on to cook. 

While it was cooking, I had a flash of genius.  Usually, you'd use the marinade to continue basting the meat as it cooks.  But I thought...hey, maybe I should make this into a sauce!  I put it in a nonstick frying pan, put in an ounce of cream cheese, a splash of milk, and some grated parmesan, and some more salt.  When it was done, and the chicken was done, I poured the sauce over the chicken. 

And then I knew.  If the pasta was miraculous, this was culinary Mecca.  Thus...

Mecca Chicken.  Try it and die happy.  Or at least go to sleep happy.  If you're not lactose intolerant...or prone to heartburn.  Whatever.  Its good.

Doesn't that look better than...

That?  The answer?  Yes, yes it does. 

Which is why I'm moving.