I admit I’m one of those people who obsesses over things that can harm you. I’ve always been like this and I don’t like it. I don’t like constantly thinking about what I’m putting on, in or around me and what the consequences of doing so may be. But what bugs me more is the fact that I feel like I have to do it because no one is going to do it for me (I’m talking about the government here – I know, I know, I’m soooo politically aggressive…).
Needless to say, this really aggravates my husband. Probably more so than anything else (and there are LOTS of aggravating things about me). Sometimes I swear he agrees with me but won’t admit it. Other times I can just feel him rolling his eyes at what he considers my over-zealous toxin vigilance.
But this week he surprised me with his patience. I was complaining that I didn’t want to start baking my Christmas cookies on my old non-stick baking sheet. I went on and on about how even if you use parchment paper, the non-stick coating is still probably emitting toxic fumes under the heat. And I’m not entirely sure of parchment paper anyway. And it’s so annoying because you can’t find ANYTHING in stores that’s not non-stick or crappy aluminum. And did he know that aluminum is linked to Alzheimer’s? And all non-stick stuff deteriorates after a few years anyway so you keep having to buy more. Oh yes, my husband heard it good.
So I finally found an independent high-end store that sells the only stainless steel line of bakeware I have ever come across. I was elated! Finally, no more worries! And at the bargain price of only two pairs of Lululemon pants! I broached the subject cautiously, asking him if it was okay that I get it. I expected him to tell me how ridiculous I am and mock me for buying into the fear-propaganda that makes otherwise intelligent people waste money on useless things. But, bless his heart, he just nodded when I came home with a single $150 All-Clad stainless steel baking sheet.
I like to think I’m rubbing off on him. Or maybe he’s just happier knowing I will be baking my cookies with confidence and not asking him every half hour to research some toxic substance on the internet. Or maybe he really, really likes my sleek new baking sheet and wishes he did the baking in the family.
You’re welcome, sweetheart.