Just read about the book deal Julie Powell, who cooked all of Julia Child's recipes in a year, got. Sheesh, why can't I think of stuff like this!? I remember the article in the NYT a couple of years ago when she was still cooking and blogging about it. Why don't these brilliant ideas strike me? Why can't I get a mega-bucks book deal for making recipes from Mastering the Art of French Cooking? Because I do have the book and I do cook from it, damn it. (Salad Nicoise is awesome, as is the crepe recipe.) Maybe I should dig into my cookbooks and copy Julie. Hmm, how about Cooking with Justin Wilson? No? What about Will Rogers' Oklahoma Cookbook?

Okay, maybe not. Sheesh.

In other news, I was reading Wanda Writer's post about turning 30 and I just wanted to say a couple of things. First, I enjoy the site. Second–hon, it's only 30. Trust me, from someone galloping toward the opposite end of that decade, 30 is no big whoop! And I'm sure you're young and gorgeous, no matter what you think. Don't sweat it, it'll all be fine, I'm sure. As for the stuff about Brad Pitt types falling in love with Gilda Radner types–well, I think women write that stuff because it's what women would do. Don't believe me? What about Sandra Bullock and Jesse James? She's gorgeous and he's, well, ahem, okay I guess. (Would you want to marry a guy whose last wife was a porn star? Not me! How can you possibly live up to how good she was in bed, no matter how rich and gorgeous you are?)

I absolutely adored SEP's Heaven, Texas, which is of course the ultimate gorgeous guy falling for plain woman book, at least in my opinion. (Yeah, I know Crusie's Bet Me also features such a deal, but I didn't care for that one nearly as much–probably because I was reading it when my kitty was near the end of her life, so it's not Jennifer's fault so much as mine.) Maybe it wouldn't really happen, at least not as often as romance writers write it, but I love that fantasy (ooh, Pierce Brosnan and his wife, Keely Shaye Smith! She's quite a bit chunky, though still lovely, while he is, well, James Bond). Even wrote my own version of it in the last novel, which is still languishing in 2nd draft mode while I tap out this Blaze. My heroine is a little weight challenged, and a lot confidence challenged, mostly because she has a gorgeous sister she compares herself to. The hero is, naturally, the most yummy of male confections, dressed in his Navy uniform and grumbling at every turn about this damn woman who's crashed (literally) into his life. Darn it, now I want to work on that book.

*sigh* And now I'm reminded that I need to get busy. Where's my handy kitchen timer? Don't tell me I put it back in the kitchen…….