To most, this looks like an ordinary rolling pin. To me, it’s so much more. It’s an investment. In myself.
Every rolling pin I’ve ever had has been Tupperware or from a thrift store. Now some of my greatest treasures are from a thrift store. But my rolling pins? I had to put a little muscle into it sometimes. They were just, well, plastic or simple wood.
This one is marble. Solid marble. It has its own fancy little wooden stand. It weighs a ton. Pretty sure you could knock somebody smooth out with it. And it’s gonna roll out some biscuits and dough like nobody’s business.
To be honest, I can’t remember a time I ever saw my momma rolling something out with a rolling pin. She wasn’t a “baker” she was a “cooker”. Fried Taters, cornbread, ritzy chicken. And her pork roast? I will go to my grave trying to make one like it.
Up until a year or so ago I would have said the same thing about myself. I don’t care nothing about baking nothing. I would cook all day long, but baking was not my thing. And honestly, I still don’t know why I started. But once I did? Katie bar the door. Hello…my name is Kim and there is nothing better than the smell of rising dough. Or the satisfaction of cooking a pan of biscuits. On cast iron. I look in the mirror and don’t even recognize myself. Yet, here I am.
I’m still working my real job. Got a new to me workaholic hubby who works “dope” which in LEO talk means he works all the time. Which means me and the dogs are home alone at night. I’ve ventured off into the vintage picking/thrifting world and have my own little booth. That I obsess about and stage/display and then move the stuff around and then go back and redo the next day because someone buys something and messes up my whole display, and well, yes, I know that’s the whole point but still…..
I tell my husband all the time “it’s so hard to be me”. Most times it’s because when we’re on a trip the sun is on my side of the car or it’s raining outside and I am whining because he isn’t here to help me take the dogs out. But y’all. This mind goes in a thousand directions at once. I can change conversation and directions faster than a speeding bullet. SQUIRREL 😳….
So one night, or one day, or it might have been when I was in the shower because that’s where I get my best ideas or remember what I had forgotten earlier in the day, I thought, I’m gonna start baking. Like for real. For other people. Not on a grand scale, mind you. Like not Variety Bake Shop style or nothing. Them gals got MAD skills. No. Just itty bitty stuff.
Fast forward thru quarantine and the year from HADES, and one cottage license later (the things I make are restricted. No cheesecakes, y’all. Good thing because mine suck), I just bought a MARBLE rolling pin. It cost $55! I can’t believe I just admitted that.
But you know what? I deserve it. We all deserve to invest in ourselves every now and then. More times than not you’ll find me worrying about someone else’s problems instead of my own. And that’s ok too. Ever heard The Talley Trio sing “The Broken Ones”? If not, YouTube that now. It’s like my anthem. Dang, I love that song.
So, I’ve gone all around the world and here and there and here I am. Blogging when I should be baking. Pinteresting when I should be washing clothes. There is no rhyme or reason to what shows up on my baked goods table at my booth any given day.
I come home, unwind watching Andy Griffith reruns and then get on Pinterest or read a cookbook to see what I’m gonna make that evening. Sometimes I just pick a random ingredient from my cabinets and google a recipe. Or make one up. Oh, the stories I could tell about those. Did y’all know scorched fudge gets in your nose hairs and you smell it for days?
My bff and I used to tell her daughter when she was little “Marry for money, buy what you love”. It was funny then and it’s kinda funny now. We all like to be taken care of every now and then. But nothing is better than buying your own solid marble rolling pin. Investing in yourself. Knowing your own worth.
Sparkle, baby. Let your light shine. On others and most importantly, on yourself.