Nice Monster

So often the scariest part of starting a big project is not knowing where to begin. You start with hesitation, which turns into frustration, boils into doubt, hardens into crack-resistant fear, and before you know it you feel like a failure when the first step hasn’t even been taken. In a big kitchen I am a king; in this tiny space, I am lost.

I am fortunate enough to have Ben’s help, who is actually no help at all. If I ask him what he wants for dinner I can expect a look of pure fear on his face, as if I asked him to perform some simple open heart surgery on me. The Clark family has created the pickiest son to never have preferences. Sometimes I wonder if Ben is right in his frightened expression; maybe I have taken on too much with this project.

We had lunch last week at Ron’s Island Grill in Eugene because I was too overwhelmed (yet again) to cook. Between bites of salty teriyaki I moaned to Ben about how helpless I felt in his kitchen. I begged for help. With each complaint Ben looked a little more uncomfortable. Finally he said, “I know absolutely nothing about the kitchen. Really, I only go in there to get water or pull some fruit from the fridge. It’s scary in there to someone who knows nothing; the toaster oven might as well have big sharp teeth.”

I made him repeat that last line to me about half a dozen times. It was so refreshing to hear my fear repeated back to me, and this was coming from the man who had lived with this kitchen for four years. I have been cooking since I was nine years old, and yet a hot plate and toaster oven are getting the best of me. I saw myself reflected in Ben, and I looked silly as all hell.

The next day I went to Michael’s craft store on a mission: to paint monster teeth on the toaster oven. Ben’s comment about an oven with teeth had been so endearing that I had to create it. It would be a constant reminder, to both me and Ben, of how silly our fear of the kitchen was. Believe me, it was great to see the look on the sales associate’s face when I asked for paint that could withstand high temperatures.

Operation: Nice Monster has teeth but is still in the works, mostly because I have to leave the oven sideways and turned on to dry the paint. In honor of my college English professor’s band, Nice Monster, I named the oven Lenny (the band’s mascot). I will add shading, blood, and possibly a tongue at some point when I figure out a good way to lay thick, even coats of the paint on (it likes to gloss and clump at the same time). I may also fashion eyes for Lenny at some point a la the recent Geico commercials. Photos of Lenny’s growth will be added to this post from time to time.

The best way to conquer fear, apparently, is to paint on it.