The Crock Pot Point

What is this "crock pot point" I speak of you ask? It's the term I coined to refer to that turning point when adulthood starts to kick in. Today at work I was talking to my friend Katie about her weekend plans. She said she wanted to have a low-key Friday night since she has to get up early on Saturday morning. I suggested she should go home and make something in her new crock pot then curl up and watch a movie. Katie was shocked and appalled that I thought she was the type of girl whose main source of entertainment on a Friday night is a kitchen appliance. But it's true: she's at the crock pot point. She's an adult.  (But to clarify: she's an incredibly FUN, young, and hip adult who very rarely has crock pot Friday nights.) The more I think about it, I'm noticing that my crock pot point may be looming in the very near future. I've already started experiencing a number of symptoms:

This year for my 22nd birthday I got my very first set of dishes and a Christmas doormat. And I was THRILLED about both of these gifts. I've already started dreaming up all the dinner party possibilities I have with these new dishes. Swoon.

Which brings me to my next symptom...I have dinner parties. I read through cookbooks to find new recipes and corral people together to offer them a free meal. I got this from my mother. Well, really from all mothers. Because all mothers (mine especially) love to feed people, regardless of whether or not those people are actually hungry.

This leads nicely into symptom #3. I'm becoming my mother. Example: I throw Patti Long-isms into conversations all the time. You see, my mother likes to make up words and phrases. I hear these words/phrases so often that I start to assume they're real. Then I let one slip in public and people get confused since they don't speak the language of Patti Long. I don't view this process of turning into my mother as a bad thing. I mean, I figured it was inevitable. Plus, Patti Long and her Patti Long-isms are pretty great. But since my mother is an adult, if I'm becoming more and more like her then I too must be an adult(ish).

I don't shop for "cute" clothes any more. I shop for functional clothes. (However, I still always choose cute shoes over functional shoes so I think this is at least a small victory.)

I clip coupons. Sure I pretty much never use any of them, but they're there for me just in case I decide I do need 50 cents off my shampoo or a free warmer unit when I buy an Air Wick Scented Oil refill fragrance (forget the fact that I don't actually have an Air Wick Scented Oil to refill in the first place). Every penny counts, you know.

The final dead giveaway that I'm growing up: I'm sitting in bed at 10:00 on a Friday night writing a blog entry. And I'm totally fine with it.

To you, adulthood, I say: BRING IT ON. I may stay home to cook a crock pot delicacy on the occasional Friday night, but I'm still awesome. Plus, there's always Saturday. Just because I'm an adult doesn't mean I need to be mature all the time.

Next step: buy a crock pot.

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