The Best Advice I Ever Received

No matter who you are, someone in your life has, at some point, given you some advice.


Don't chew with your mouth full.
Be nice to people and they'll be nice to you.
Never cross the street on your hands--it's illegal in 4 states.


Most of the time, you nod and smile and think, "I already knew that, but thanks." 


Sometimes, though...sometimes it's the kind of advice that changes your life.


I've been in exactly 5 serious relationships, including my marriage. For the most part, the boys I dated (and I say boys because I met my husband while we were still in college, so these relationships took place while I was a kid) were nice boys. They treated me well enough, and each one taught me valuable lessons to take into life.


My High School Sweetheart taught me to love earnestly, with my whole heart. He also taught me about heart break.


My Musician taught me to live in the moment, and to enjoy life as it comes. He also taught me to pine.


My Best Friend taught me to dream a little, and plan a little. He also taught me what it feels like to have the rug pulled out from beneath your feet.


Then there was The Jerk. I think every girl dates at least one, and The Jerk stole most of my sophomore year of college from me. He taught me to be mistrustful, but he also taught me how to take up for myself. And eventually, how to walk away.


Each relationship, each lesson, put me in a place to be ready for that one big Love that came my way. It prepared me to love My Husband with my whole heart, earnestly and completely, without giving up my own identity. 


I thank each of them for that.


A few years later, as My Husband and I prepared for our wedding, advice started coming out of the woodwork.


Never go to bed angry.
Don't bring up the past when you fight.
It's not okay to call your spouse a cotton-headed ninny muggins.


I can't tell you how many people said the same thing to us. "The first year of marriage is ALWAYS the hardest. If you make it through that first year, you'll make it through ANYTHING!"


We weren't worried. We went into our nuptials with confidence, never wavering. As we stood on the beach, hand in hand, with the sun setting behind us, the rest of the world disappeared. I never expected it to be like that---movie epic good---but it really was, for me. There was a moment, standing on the dunes with my parents, just before they gave me away, when I felt my face break and the tears well up, and for that fleeting moment, I thought I would cry. And then I thought, "No, don't miss this." And I didn't. Not a single second was missed, and I was beaming from the "Dearly Beloved" to "You may kiss the bride."


A few days after we were married, my brand new father-in-law took us aside and sat us down for "the talk." (Not "the birds and the bees" one, the "you just got married and here's the wisdom I'd like to pass down" one.)


He told us that we would face times of trouble. It's inevitable, everyone does. He prepared us for money woes and growing pains and silly disagreements. And along with it all, he gave me the most profound advice I have ever received.


"No matter how noisy life gets, don't be afraid to turn down the volume and focus on the most important thing of all----each other."


It may not seem like much, it may not shake you down to your foundation, but this has become our Marriage Mantra. If everybody else's problems start to bog us down, we disconnect from the world, shut it down for a few hours (or a few days) and just focus on our relationship. When real life gets too real, too scary, too much to handle, we regroup and refocus on each other. We constantly remind each other how lucky we are, and that as bad as we think it is, there are people in the world who don't have what we have. And for that, we are always grateful.


This advice has gotten us through those money woes, and those growing pains, and those silly disagreements that my father-in-law warned us about. It got us through B deciding to go back to school. It's helped us deal with our fertility problems, and the fact that, after almost 7 years of marriage, we still haven't started a family. 


It got us through cancer.


So now, whenever a friend announces they're getting married, or they're having a baby, or they're facing new life complications, I always pass along the seed that my father-in-law planted. Because it has truly shaped our lives, our love, and our relationship. And it has grown into the bedrock of our marriage.

The Evolution of My Chef-Like Self

The year: 2001. The place: my first apartment. The occasion: my first "dinner party."

The telephone conversation went something like this:

Dad: "Hello?"

Abby: "Hi Daddy! Whatcha doin?"

Dad: "Oh, just sitting here watching the game. State's down by 8. What's my little girl doing today?"

Abby: "Well, I'm having some people over to see the apartment, and I'm going to fix them dinner."

Dad: Silence.

Abby: "What? I can totally do it."

Dad: Silence.

Abby: "Dad, c'mon. I'm a smart kid. I can do it. I just need your help."

Dad: "I don't think I can be there before your guests arrive."

Abby: "I don't want to you to come cook! I want you to answer some basic cooking questions for me."

Dad: "Ok, shoot."

Abby: "Ok. So, I'm making spaghetti. My first question is, how do I cook the noodles?"

I'm hoping that this conversation will illustrate to you, dear reader, just how inadequate I was in the kitchen. I could slap together a PBJ with the best of them. And I made a mean Pop-Tart. But other than that---no knowledge at ALL.

That first pot of spaghetti was probably horrible. I honestly don't remember. I was so proud of my accomplishment, of having my first dinner party, that it could've tasted horrible and I just wouldn't remember.

Fast forward a few months, when I started dating my husband. Now here was a man who was self-sufficient. Earlier in our friendship, when we were all still living in the dormitories at Appalachian State University, B had made an entire lasagna dinner for his friends. Lasagna--from scratch. Big tossed salad with fresh veggies. Garlic bread that was to-die-for. Shortly after we began courting, B started teaching me a thing or two in the kitchen. Methods of cooking, a few fail proof recipes, how to grill a steak. It was like a light switch went off in my head.

By the time we moved into together, my curiosity about cooking increased. We now had the Food Network, and I would watch Emeril, Rachael Ray, Paula Deen, and Bobby Flay for HOURS. I started buying cook books, and experimenting in the kitchen.

By the time we moved to Charleston, I had most of the basics down. I could follow a recipe easily enough, and most of the time, they would turn out how I expected. Certainly, there were mishaps (please don't ever ask about the peach pie incident, unless you want to make me cry), but I felt that I was making progress.

I got my first real chef's knife as a wedding gift in 2004. After that, the sky was the limit.

I can saute, grill, pan-sear and roast with the best of them. I can see a recipe that sounds sort of interesting and make it my own. I can wow the taste buds of my husband, my family, and my friends. I can bake cupcakes, birthday cakes, and the best damn Christmas cookies you ever put in your face.

Abby--Official Foodie and Apron-Wearer

And I honestly, truly love it. 

I spend every Sunday with my Mom and Dad. And it's my favorite day of the week. Dad and I start planning dinner while we're still eating breakfast. We shop together, carefully choosing the perfect ingredients, squeezing tomatoes and smelling basil and buying only the choicest fish. We chop together, season together, inhale the wonderful aromas together, taste sauces together. And revel in our success when the dish makes my Mom say, "Yum."

And I owe it all to my hubby, and my teachers at the Food Network. Because truly, I learned everything from knife skills to cooking techniques from that channel. It was like culinary school, from the comfort of my own home.

Thanks to the best teachers, ever.

My next step in taking over the world of food---growing my own garden. And making gazpacho from my own veggies. Move over, Barefoot Contessa, Abby's moving in.