Julie & Julia

I knew I was turning into a Californian the first time a little rain deterred me from venturing outside.  When I was a hardy Northwesterner - an intrepid Seattle-ite - a water-repellant coat and crushable felt hat made me impervious to the wet (if not the gloom) from October through May.  But now, after only a few days of rain I should be grateful for, curling up with a good book seems like a necessity rather than a luxury.  Rather than cowboy up with my foulies and head to the Sunday farmers market as planned, I read the entire second half of Julie & Julia.

Julie Powell spent a year cooking and writing in the little time around the edges of her full-time government job.  Her blog, the Julie/Julia Project, garnered a loyal following and eventually a book deal.  The book is painfully funny, the sort that annoys anyone trying to get something done near you while you read it.  If they don't ask why you're laughing, you feel compelled to interrupt their labors to tell them anyway.

As enjoyable and well-written as the story is, much of the food prep imagery is vividly appetite-killing.  J & J did not inspire me to get a copy of Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking, the legendary cookbook Julie Powell works her way through in the 365-day marathon.  But it did reassure me that food and humor go brilliantly together, so long as laughing at yourself, and being able to hold the kitchen disaster of the moment in one hand and the knowledge that you will recognize the absurdity of it eventually in the other, are two life skills you possess.